Spotlight
by CrabRabbit
Summary: Dave Strider is a successful Hollywood movie director. He has what everyone wants in life, looks, money, fame. Nothing would suggest he's anything but the happiest guy around. Still, his younger brother Dirk knows that's not the case and is determined to find out why. Trigger warnings- self harm, past child abuse, panic attacks, more inside.
1. Chapter 1

This is basically all the fanfics I've ever read stuffed into one big no Sburb alpha!Dave and kid!Dirk au. If something sounds like it's from another story it's probably because I subconsciously stole the idea. I wasn't going to post this at first because it gets pretty confusing so hold onto your hats. There will be trigger warnings posted before each chapter so please pay attention to those before you read.

Trigger warnings- alcohol use, swearing

* * *

Your name is Dirk Strider and you're rewiring one of your old robots when you hear the door to the apartment slam open. You figure it must be bro. Contrary to popular belief he comes home from the glitz and glamour pretty often. He's still not around as much as a normal guardian would be, but he's not a normal guardian. That's a given. Not many people have a famous movie director as their older brother. Besides, you're 17 now, you can take care of yourself for a week.

You go back to work until you hear something fall over, after a moments thought you realize it sounded like your brother just passed out. Confused, you detach yourself from the mechanics, wipe the oil off your hands and stalk into the living room. At first you see no sign of your brother but on closer inspection you find him collapsed on the floor.

Walking closer you notice he looks fairly disheveled. It's not hard to create that look when you're nearly passed out next to the front door. His hair's a mess while he's still wearing one of his designer suits and reeking of alcohol. He's completely hammered, unable to stand or form a complete sentence, just staring up at you dumbly from his uncomfortable position on the floor.

Unfortunately, this isn't a rare occurrence in the Strider household. Dave has come home drunk multiple times, but him coming back completely black out intoxicated happens much less often. Only when he's hit a low point, when work becomes too much and he loses his direction. His motivation.

Your brother is depressed, that much is obvious. He tries his best to hide it but you've picked up on the signs. The way he has literally no motivation, how he sleeps on and off for days when he comes back from California. It could be attributed to exhaustion caused by show business, but you know better. Because even if he tries to muffle his broken sobs into pillows, you can hear him. You still hear him break down every night.

"Ey' Kiddo," He slurs, smiling up at you, you sigh and kneel next to him, getting to work. You unbutton his suit jacket before carefully hanging it on one of the nearby chairs and removing his tie and aviators. You aren't wearing your shades because of your previous robotics activities so you think your actions can be excused.

"Can you stand?" He laughs slightly and shakes his head, indicating that standing is not an option. "I'll help, let's go to the futon." You pull him up by the arms, holding his weight quite easily. He's too skinny, much too light for someone his age. You lead him to the futon where he just about collapses.

"You're my knight in shining armor," he mumbles, shoving his face into his hands. "I'm fine now, you can go back to whatever you were doing before I came stumbling in like a idiot." While you can tell he's trying to act normal, it's failing pretty miserably.

You ignore his previous comments and sit down next to him. His breath evens some when you turn on the TV and switch to a random channel. You end up watching Dr. Phil, waiting for your brothers mental state to either become better or worse. Everything seems to be fine until the program switches to a commercial break. Just your luck, it's a _SBaHaJ: The Movle_ trailer.

As soon as he realizes what's on the TV he breaks down. The unshed tears you saw earlier now rolling down his cheeks. He sniffs lamely and tries to make his crying as unnoticeable as possible. This situation is just becoming sad.

"What's wrong?" You're staring at him but he's not looking in your direction.

"I'm totally chill kid, could you change the channel though?" You oblige, changing to the cooking channel. He's regaining composure when, out of a pure fucked up coincidence, the same movie trailer airs. You cringe inwardly when he tenses and stars lowkey crying again. You decide to turn off the TV and face the problem at hand.

"Bro. What's wrong." You see him start to reply but cut him off,"and don't tell me you're as chill as a slurpee, or you're peachy fucking keen, or any of those stupid sayings you like to use. Because it doesn't take a genius to tell you're kinda fucked up right now."

"I'm just…" You can see him swallow in an effort to try and calm down. After a few minutes of silence he finally continues, "I'm just really tired." You don't say anything, knowing anything you say will likely cause him to stop talking.

"I just hate that I can't escape the stupid celebrity bullshit. Whenever I think about the movies and my responsibilities everything gets so fucked up and overwhelming." He laughs bitterly, trying to wipe away his tears. "I don't want this anymore."

Okay, so maybe he's alittle more stressed than you were expecting. That's okay, completely fine. You can work with this. If you can build state of the art androids, you can fix your older brother. You open your mouth to reply but it's your turn to be cut off.

"Look. You don't have to concern yourself with this. I'll be fine, go back to your room." He's politely trying to make you leave, you don't think that's going to happen.

"Dave." You say and he looks right at you for the first time in this conversation. You hardly use his full name so it's somewhat jarring when you do. "While I'll admit I have no clue what it's like to be a revolutionary movie director, I do know that it's fucking you up. You get worse every time you come home."

"I'm just a bit overworked. I'll be fine, you really don't have to worry. I'll be okay once I get some sleep." He smiles at you weakly, words still slurring regularly. It sounds like he doesn't believe what's coming out of his own mouth.

"Will you though?" That was rather blunt, might as well keep it going. "Because I'm not sure how much you actually sleep when you're locked up in your room." You see his eyebrows furrow. Something falls over his face: defeat, sadness, determination. You can't tell.

"I have no idea what you're going on about." His tone is telling you to back away, step down and retreat. But you ignore it. You're already this far, you can't give up quite yet.

"Don't bullshit me bro. Half of the time I hear you crying in there instead of sleeping. It's not that hard to tell." As soon as you say this you regret your phrasing. He turns bright red and a large frown falls on his face. You've never seen him display so much emotion in one movement. It was very unlike him and very unsettling.

"Could you go to your room?" His voice cracks at the end and you feel pretty bad. You just made your brother cry. You try and get closer, maybe to comfort him or apologize, but he scoots away.

"Dirk, go to your room." You shake your head, "Dirk." He says more assertively. Then his phone rings. The air becomes thick as you watch all the life drain from his face.

"I have to get this. Sorry kid." He stares at the phone and takes a few deep breaths before answering.

"Sup." He sounds pretty normal, you definitely couldn't tell he was just crying. He pushes himself off the seat clumsily and staggers into the kitchen. You don't follow him, only because the kitchen is right behind you. You listen to his side of the conversation and don't exactly like what you hear.

"I just got home."  
"Yeah, why?"  
"You never told me that."  
"Telling my assistant is definitely not the same as telling me."  
"You want me to fly back?"  
"Why?" There is a long pause.  
"Do I have to?" An even longer pause  
"You already scheduled it?" Longest pause yet.  
"That's fucked up."  
"No, no. I'll do it. Don't worry."  
"I'll book a flight."  
"I'll deal with it."  
"I won't be late."  
"I'll hold."

"Hey Alex."  
"I wasn't expecting to be able to stay long anyways."  
"That's… Really not good."  
"Wait shit." Now his voice is full of panic.  
"Nope. Fuck no."  
"Are you serious?" He cards a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face.  
"That's really, REALLY, not good." The tone he uses on the second really is one you've never heard before.  
"How did it happen?"  
"That motherfucker."  
"I'll kill them I swear to god."  
"Fire them, lynch them, light them on fire, I don't give a shit. Get that fucker as far away from my movie as possible. I might even file a restraining order. Press charges. No joke."  
"Can you try to recover the files?"  
"You can do it. Just look it up."  
"Why wasn't there a backup?"  
"How is that even possible?"  
"There's usually backups of the backups."  
"How is that my fault?"  
"How is any of this my fault? I leave for a god damn da-" Stopping mid sentence, he brings the phone away from his ear and let's out an exasperated sigh.  
"Just try harder, okay? Keep trying. Channel your inner hacker. We can talk about this tomorrow. I need to go to bed."  
"It's fine, it's not your fault."  
"you didn't do anything wrong."  
"Stop crying."  
"You're forgiven."  
"Goodnight."

All you can do is watch as he grabs his shades, tie and jacket before quietly making his way to his room. You think you're starting to understand why your brother is so depressed. You go back to your room and fall asleep to muted, hiccuping sobs.

* * *

You wake up to the shower turning on. It feels entirely too early to be awake, the sun is blinding you from the unshaded window as you try to take in your surroundings. Looking at the clock it reads 5:10 AM. Was your brother really getting ready this early? He should go back to bed. Too tired to be stay awake you drift off again.

This time the beep of the coffee maker startles you from your rest. He's shuffling around the kitchen silently. The coffee he's making smells amazing though. In the middle of your thinking the front door opens and closes, followed by an eerie silence. It's 7 in the morning and your brother just left to California after being home for less than 10 hours. Your brother who started crying at the mere thought of dealing with his career just a short time ago.

Rolling around in bed you check various social media websites on your phone. As usual you got new followers but nothing interesting presents itself. After drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours you go to the kitchen to get food. On the table you see a note with $300 under it.

The note reads, 'Sorry I had to leave kid. I'll be home in a week. I hope this can sustain you until I return. If you need more money text me and I'll send some to your bank account. If you want to see your super cool brother on TV I'll be interviewed on channel 413 at 7 PM.'

You scavenge some cereal for your meal. The milk is expired so you're not even going to bother with that. You're going to have to go through the tedious process of buying food. Sitting at the table you inspect your food before looking over the note again. You wonder if the interview is the reason he had to leave. You're leaning towards yes. Looking at the smuppets clock you realize a good amount of time has passed since you woke up. It's nearing 3 PM.

You set an alarm for 7 and busy yourself with mundane daily tasks. First you check the computer. You talk to Jake and Roxy for a bit, telling them to watch your brother on TV. Jake mentions that might be hard with his lack of cable but he'll look it up online later. Roxy promises to watch with almost too much enthusiasm. For some reason you can't get ahold of Jane.

You don't know why you want everyone to catch a glimpse of your brother on the big screen. Maybe it's pride, maybe it's to establish some odd sort of authority. 'Look at me, my brother is infinitely more famous than yours.' However, that can't be it. Roxy's mom is even more well known than Dave. Her novels are best sellers around the world, earning her multiple awards and prizes in various areas. Maybe you want him to get the recognition he deserves.

You're in the middle of polishing some metal when your alarm goes off. Dismissing it you turn on the TV in your room. You have to switch to cable but soon you're looking at your brother on live on television. Fancy.

It's basically exactly what you were expecting. A bubbly, overbearing talk show hosts was bombarding him with mundane uncomfortable questions. Dave stayed passive and unreadable, answering the inquiries with witty ironic banter. Seeing him in that environment was very different from seeing him at home. He's over-exerting his personality, putting on an even more nonchalant front than normal.

You can tell he really doesn't want to be there. You don't blame him, most of the questions are invasive and about his personal life or set up comedy routines. After awhile his answers become shorter and dry. He's obviously getting fed up with the situation. Your brother has never been an overly patient person.

The host notices and changes the topic to the ideas behind his first movie. Dave gives a long winded answer that is hardly informative. It was basically him rambling on, telling a story that was likely made up on the spot. You don't recall him living anywhere remotely cold so you're guessing the whole explanation he's giving is bullshit.

He's telling the host how once, when he was young, he got stuck inside the house for weeks due to an extreme snow storm. He had to live off of the little food he had available, eventually having to ration off meals so he wouldn't go hungry. During one of the cold, long nights he started thinking. Like really thinking. About reality and stuff. He says that's when shit went down.

Like any other night he decided to drink instead of dealing with insomnia induced soul searching. Once he was intoxicated he started to pass the time drawing stupid, meaningless comics. He ended up drawing pages and pages of drunken scribblings that made little to no sense. He kept the drawings and eventually decided to put them to use later in his life.

That's… not how you remember him coming up with the idea for the first movie. If you recall correctly he was drunk, but not snowed in a remote house in the wilderness. No, he was in the apartment watching infomercials at 2 AM with a nearly empty bag of cool ranch doritos in one hand and a warm, cheap beer in the other. You heard him gasp and a few moments later he was in your room shaking you. You were almost asleep but he didn't seem to care in the slightest.

Once you were good and awake he proceeded to go through a whole movie concept in pretty great detail. Scattered throughout the summary were claims that 'this shit it totally going to happen' and, 'it will be the most ironic shenanigans yet'. It was only when 10 minutes had passed and he was still rambling that you made him stop. While his movie idea was great you could hardly understand half of his words through the drunken stupor and you were hella tired. You told him to write it down and revisit it in the morning. That's exactly what he did, and _SBaHJ: The The Film_ was born.

You were confused as to why he could lie at first but it became clear once you thought about it. People hardly knew anything about Dave's personal life. He kept it well hidden, avoiding peoples inappropriate questions and comments with grace. If he went out and said things about the apartment or his time with you that would be a major security breach. Then people would know too much about the real him, and that wasn't even an option in his mind. Making up a completely fake and bullshit story was the only way he could keep some things to himself.

A few more minutes passed before the interview drew to a close. The last question asked was, "What do you plan to do once you get home?"

"Sleep." Was his single word response. You're pretty sure that's the only question he answered truthfully in the past 10 minutes. The show switched to a commercial break and you shut off the TV.

Looking at your phone you see a text from Roxy saying that she thought Dave was, 'totes hella attractive'. You started a new message and sent your brother the only thing that comes to mind.

 _'Liar.'_


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry in advance about any major spelling mistakes. Please review!  
Trigger warnings- Self harm, nightmares

* * *

"Bro come home I'm sick." You got a call in the middle of work, you'd usually ignore it but this time it was your brother. You can't ignore a call from your brother. You excuse yourself and go to the next room to answer.

"You don't sound very sick." It's true, he sounds normal as ever. If not alittle mischievous. He's up to something, the question is what.

"But I totally am." He forces out a few fake coughs. "See I'm sick. Practically fucking dying up in here. Now come home before you actually die from exhaustion." He's been trying to get you home all week, this is the most blatant attempt.

"Kid, you know it's not that easy. I'd kiss the CEO and founder of Betty Crocker to get a few days off." As much as you'd love to go back to the apartment and sleep your life away you _can't_. It's not an option. You have so much to film and plan, there's literally no time for rest.

"Yeah it is, just tell everybody else to fuck off and leave." He sounds less and less sick as this conversation progresses.

"I can't." You sigh, sometimes you are the shitiest person. What type of person is away from their brother more often than not? Obviously a shitty one.

"Fine." You hear him huff in annoyance, but it doesn't seem sincere. "What if I flew out to California and stayed with you?"

Him coming out here? You never thought of that. It seems like a bad idea for some reason. "I doubt you would be any more entertained here. You'd have to stay in my apartment all day and I don't have the gaming consoles or weird robot shit it takes to keep you busy."

"All I do is sit in the apartment and do absolutely nothing anyways. It can't get much worse. Besides, don't you want to see me?" There is fake hurt in his voice, so he's going with the guilt trip route. God damnit.

"You little shit." He chuckles, knowing he's won. "I'll get you a ticket, do you think you can manage getting to the airport on your own?" He scoffs, you take that as a yes. " I'll be waiting near the terminal so you won't get lost in the big ol' LA airport." You can't help but tease him, only alittle.

"Sure, whatever. I'll be fine. I'm not a kid anymore, no matter how much you enjoy calling me one."

"That's what you think. I'll send you the ticket information once I get some spare time. I have to go now, I'll see you in a bit." You hang up and go back to the set. You'll buy the ticket later, you have to deal with hungover actors and a disgruntled film crew for the time being. During a small 5 minute break you get a chance to buy a ticket and forward him the information. He replies with complaints that it took 30 minutes for you to text him.

A few more exhausting hours pass before you're free from the movie production. You drive straight to the airport after work, which is where you're standing now waiting for your brother. You silently pray he gets off soon, it's a miracle paparazzi hasn't swarmed you by now. People start pouring out of the hallway when you see familiar blonde hair. He spots you easily and weaves through the mass to get to you.

"Now don't you look fancy. Are you trying to be subtle at all?" You chuckle, you must look rather odd. You're wearing what you went to work in, a pretty nice getup. You had to dress especially well today due to a tedious magazine interview. Do people even read magazines anymore? You doubt it.

"It's nice to see you too kid. I didn't have time to change so I'm stuck in this spiffy thing for now." He grabs his bags and follows you to the car. You're thankful nobody recognized you and decided it would be a good idea to swarm you, especially since Dirk is here. That would be a nightmare.

The drive back is quiet and peaceful. It starts with Dirk going through his phone, headphones in his ears, texting his friends and browsing the web. The traffic is heavy around this time so movement has slowed to a crawl. As the sun starts to set he shifts his attention to the street and cityscape. He seems somewhat hypnotized by the repetitive white blobs caused by passing streetlights.

When you finally reach the apartment building on the outskirts of town the sun has set. The sky is a gradient of purple to the dark blue of the night. You can't really see the stars, the smog from the nearby businesses and cars pollutes the air, obstructing the view. Looking over you realize Dirk has fallen asleep. The ride from the airport was about fortyfive minutes long so you can't blame him. You'd rather be sleeping too.

You shake him, causing his eyes to crack open. "We're here, I have your bags, follow me." He climbs out of the car and stumbles after you, still half asleep. You reach your door after ascending a considerable amount of stairs.

Inside, you put his bags in your room and try to scavenge a few extra blankets from somewhere. You come across a pillow and an extra comforter that you throw onto the couch in the living room. Next you turn off the alarm on your clock, you don't want it to accidentally go off at 5 AM. Once your room is somewhat presentable you grab your laptop, phone charger and clothes to put on the couch aswell. That's where you're sleeping for the duration of Dirks stay.

"Kid," He stops aimlessly wandering around the apartment and turns his attention towards you. "You're going to be sleeping in my room, it's right over there. There is an attached bathroom and a fancy big bed so you should be comfortable enough."

He doesn't say anything and walks right past you, into the room. You think you hear him murmur goodnight before shutting the door. Somewhat rude, but he's probably tired. You go to the bathroom that's not connected to the bedroom and get ready for the night. While doing so you put all of the clutter away, trying to clean alittle. After plugging in your phone you collapse onto the couch and try to fall asleep.

* * *

You were asleep in your brothers room when you're woken up by a small yelp. You stay awake and listen. It seems like he's rummaging through the kitchen. The shuffling eventually stops and all is quiet until you hear the shower turn on. You look at the clock, it's 2:14 AM. Why is he taking a shower in the middle of the night?

You roll over to look at the plain white wall. His whole apartment is undecorated and boring. Boxes full of papers and files along with various pieces of technology are scattered about, but nothing else indicates this space is his. You looked through the piles earlier but all you found was some sort of script and various documents. You wonder why he doesn't let you live in California with him but end up discarding the thought quickly. Now isn't the time to dwell on that.

The water shuts off and your brother leaves the bathroom to go back to sleep. At least you're pretty sure that's what he did because you can't hear any movement. You drift back into sleep, ignoring the random phone buzzing on the nearby dresser. You decide whoever is calling can wait until morning to talk to Dave.

* * *

You told yourself you wouldn't do this while Dirk was staying with you. He's perceptive, far too smart for his own good. Smarter than you, that's for sure. You really have a slim chance of getting away with it. However, you need to. Everything is piling up, it's getting more and more difficult to deal with everyone and everything.

You thought maybe having Dirk here would help distract you, but all that happened is you're sleeping on a couch instead of a bed. While you like having him with you everything is out of sorts and you can't seem to gain your footing.

So you're sitting in the shower, blood the color of your eyes running down your hand and spiraling down the drain. Your other hand is loosely holding the blade that caused the damage to your now bleeding wrist. You don't cry, you did plenty of that earlier, you just stay in one place, letting the water wash away the blood as it flows from the gashes.

You've been doing this for years, and somehow, nobody has noticed. At first you thought it would be hard to hide, considering the climate you live in, but nobody questioned you wearing long sleeves and cardigans all the time. You got use to the warmth caused by multiple layers and by now it doesn't even bother you. You're use to this, it's normal, just part of the daily routine.

You really don't know how Dirk hasn't caught on yet. You know it's going to happen, and you dread that day. You figure he still doesn't know because you're not with him very often. Which is why you need to be careful when he's around, and what you're doing right now is the opposite of being careful.

You stand up wobbly and finish showering, the soap in your open wounds stings but you ignore it. By the time you turn off the water your bleeding has basically stopped. You dry yourself off, get dressed, and put the blade back where it belongs. Once all traces of your activities are gone you go to the couch and crawl under the covers, clutching your injured arm to your chest. Maybe this would be the last time.

* * *

The door of the room squeaked, bringing you out of your rest. You peek out of the covers to see Dave pulling a nice navy suit out of the closet. He must have important things to do today. He goes over to the dresser and checks the phone that buzzed last night. The look on his face tells you he doesn't like what he sees. But when he turns around and notices you staring at him he smiles warmly.

That drastic mood switch should have concerned you but your half aware mind doesn't care and makes you smile back lazily. Sitting on the edge of the bed he sighs lightly before starting to softly stroke your hair, it's oddly calming. Your eyes start to droop without your approval and you can't stop the tiny, content hum that leaves you. After a good 5 minutes he stops and whispers, 'go back to bed', placing a small kiss to the top of your head. You're asleep before he leaves the room.

You feel something poking your face, it's annoying as hell. Wanting it to stop you groan and roll over, only causing the poking to shift to the back of your neck. That might be even worse. You grumble something that sounds similar to 'fuck off' and the poking stops. Thank god.

"Is that really the way to greet someone who brought you sushi?" You stay nonresponsive, wrapped in the blankets, not caring about anything being said. After a few moments you hear a 'tsk' and the crinkle of plastic, "I'll put it in the fridge for when you get off your lazy ass and wake up." He goes through a few drawers and his closet before leaving you to your slumber.

However, slumber does not come. You groan again and stretch, trying to fight the grogginess. It's 1 in the afternoon but hard to tell in your brothers pitch black room. He has some heavy duty curtains up in here. As you start to wake you recall the earlier conversation. You have sushi. That sounds really fucking good right about now.

Untangling yourself from the sheets you walk into the living room to find your brother sitting on the couch with what looks like a cup of coffee. He's staring out the large windows, following his gaze you see a small family of doves nesting in a tall tree. You realize he's wearing much more casual clothes, not the fancy designer suit from earlier. Now he's wearing a burgundy sweater and black pants. Maybe he's done with work for today, that'd be nice

You grab the sushi and a drink from the fridge, noticing a severe lack of any real food. You sit next to him, turn on the tv and after the food passes inspection you start eating. It's really good, 100% worth waking up for. Between bites you start up a conversation.

"Are you back from work?"

"Hmm?" He looks at you for a moment before processing what you asked. "Oh, no. I Just came back to give you something to eat. I realized there was nothing in the fridge last night so I had to bring you food. I'm just putting off going back to the set right now." He rolls the mug in his hands, staring at the brown liquid.

"Can I have some of your coffee?" You're tired and you need some help waking up. He's hardly drinking it anyways.

"There's some in the kitchen, get your own. Besides, aren't you all weird about germs?"

"I don't want to get up though."

"Tough shit." He chugs just about the entire cup. Well, point taken.

"Was that really necessary?"

"It definitely was because you're an ass who won't take no for an answer." He puts the cup on the side table and stands up. "I'm going now, I'll be back in like 5 hours. If you get hungry order a pizza or something." He grabs his keys, wallet and phone before leaving the apartment without saying goodbye. You find yourself alone again. Wonderful.

Going back to eating you flip through the tv. Dave has tons of channels, you didn't even know ¾ of them even existed. Who the hell needs 400+ channels anyways? Even with the large selection nothing is very interesting, it's mostly reality tv and weird cartoons. You end up watching a marathon of Spongebob movies.

* * *

You unlock the door and creep into your apartment. You ended up staying at work a lot longer than you anticipated, it's nearing 11:30 PM. All the lights are off so you assume the kid is asleep. You put your keys on the table and grab some water from the kitchen. Next, you go to the bathroom. As you near the door you hear something coming from your bedroom. Waiting, you hear it again. It sounds like a gasp, one of distress. When you hear it a 3rd time you decide to investigate.

You quietly open the door and look at the sleeping form of your brother. It isn't as peaceful as you were hoping. He's rustling around in the sheets, making occasional upset noises. You decide it's time to wake him up.

Walking to the bed you kneel down and lightly shake him, but he doesn't wake up. You shake alittle more firmly and he starts to stir, after one more he jumps awake. You retract your hand and wait for him to regain composure. After a few minutes his breathing calms and he looks over at you.

"Sorry, nightmare I guess. Did I wake you?" His speech is slurred, heavy with sleep.

"No," you whisper. "I just got home. Are you okay?" He nods apprehensively, not meeting your eyes. This behavior is unlike him, it must have been a bad nightmare. Standing, you pat his shoulder reassuringly. "If you need anything I'll be in the other room, goodnight." You exit the room to change and go to bed, dinner can wait until morning.

You're almost asleep when one of the doors creek. Soft footsteps are heard until you feel something touch your arm. You quickly pull back and open your eyes. Dirk is staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

"Can you stay with me?" That was rather forward, you didn't think he would go out and ask something like that. You nod and go to the bedroom, him following close behind. You lay on the bed, taking up as little room as possible and not facing him. No matter how much you love your brother you've never been comfortable sleeping with another person. It leaves you far too vulnerable.

You're listening to choppy breaths when he shifts and touches your arm again, causing you to twitch. God, you wish he would stop doing that. When you look over at him it's a sad sight. He's huddled in the blankets, shuddering slightly with a desperate expression. You roll over and scoot closer to him. He closes the gap by pulling you into an awkward embrace. He's quivering against you, hands gripping the back of your sweater tightly.

Hushing him softly you run a hand on his back. Both of you have had your fair share of nightmares, getting them at least a few times a week on your end. He use to get them much more frequently so you know what he's going through, you know the fear and anxiety he's most definitely feeling right now.

"It's okay." You murmur, "It was just a dream." He nods and takes in a gasp that seems to restart his breathing into a slower, more even pace. He's still clutching you tightly. You can't tell if you like the close proximity or hate it. It's not his fault either, you're just not use to being this close to someone and you haven't had him cling onto you like this in years. You try to shove these thoughts away and appear relaxed for your brother. You're starting to drift off when you hear Dirk start to talk.

"Bro?" His voice is cracked and hoarse. You hum lightly, indicating that you heard him. "What do you dream about?"

You chuckle, eyes still closed, "you wanna talk about our dreams like giggly school girls?"

"That's not what I mean." He says frowning, maybe that comment was alittle too soon. "I mean, when you have nightmares. What do you dream about?"

Nope. You really, really don't want to talk about this. At all. No part of you thinks this discussion is a good idea. And there's no way he couldn't have noticed your whole body go rigid at the mention of your nightmares. You don't know what to do, so you fall back on old habits. Lie.

"I have the sweetest of dreams kid, ones with me sleeping my life away on some deserted island. Nobody to bother me and tell me I need to get ready for a 7 AM interview. Just me and the seagulls. Living the dream in my dreams."

"Liar." He states bluntly.

"What was your dream about?" Try to change the subject.

"Why should I tell you if you won't tell me. Some people find lying rude." And now he's upset with you. Can anything go right? You stay quiet, running your fingers along his vertebrae absentmindedly.

"It wasn't even that bad." He huffs, "I just had this weird ass dream about being chased down this really long corridor. All I remember is the floor was checkered and the thing chasing me was fucked. I got to the end of the hall but that only led to a new hall. It just kept happening, over and over. There was no end, no start, it was just a big fucked up game of cat and mouse." You hold him closer despite your conflicted discomfort. Maybe you can tell him alittle, he did just open up to you after all.

"I'm sorry kid, you want to know about my dreams?" He nods and you sigh, not saying anything for awhile.

"Most of my dreams are about something happening to you." That's all you're going to say because you can already feel yourself starting to panic. Having a panic attack while in bed with your brother was never part of the plan. You're glad he doesn't push it and hugs you instead.


	3. Chapter 3

Dirk had a hard time growing up. Good thing Dave was there for him.  
If you're confused about the timeline Dave started taking care of a 3 year old Dirk at 15.  
Trigger warnings- hallucinations/depictions of mental illness

* * *

Your name is Dirk Strider and at 6 you're what some people might refer to as a troubled child. You inspect everything you eat, refusing to touch it if even one thing seems off. Textures are hit and miss, some make you shudder, others make you cry. Certain colors and scents make your head hurt, you hate loud noises, you hate the quiet and you really hate the dark. But above all is the counting. You count constantly, finding patterns in random things and counting whatever you can.

You hear people say it's because your brother is so young. How someone his age shouldn't be raising someone your age. ' _Why 18 is just a child, he shouldn't be raising a 6 year old!_ ' You don't understand what that means. Bro is the best, he's the only one who actually listens to you. The only one who accepts, understands and helps you. Everyone else shrugs it off when you tell them the feeling of the sandbox makes you want to scream.

Sometimes you get really angry or sad. It comes out of nowhere and changes your entire mood in an instant. The teachers say you should be on medication. They say you'd be better adjusted on them. You don't want to take the medication and bro says that's okay. He says maybe one day he'll be able to afford something like that.

The teachers bother you, they always tell you to behave in a certain way and do certain things. But making eye contact and talking to other kids is hard. You don't understand why you have to look at someone while you're talking to them. You try to tell her but she just mutters something under her breath. You get the feeling she doesn't actually care.

The teachers are also rude to bro. They talk down to him, tell him he's raising you wrong. Tell him you'd be better off with someone else. You want to tell them that they're wrong but bro tells you not to. He says some people are judgmental and don't like the fact that he's not as old as most guardians. Every time he says this you insist that you don't understand. Because you don't, why does his age matter?

The other kids pick on you. They try to grab your shades and put things into your food. They ask stupid questions and get into your personal space. It makes you so angry but you can't react. You get stuck. Bro says he'll teach you how to defend yourself but he hasn't done that yet. Maybe he's waiting until you get older.

Sometimes at night you see shadows and odd figures, they cover your room in darkness and fill the silence with suffocating screams. It's on these nights bro holds you to his chest, humming softly and telling you that _it's okay, it'll be alright, you're safe_. He doesn't try to stop you from screaming into his chest or sobbing into his neck. He just holds you, rocking back and forth, petting your hair until you drift into a fitful sleep.

Some nights when bro comes home from work you hear him cry. He cries and takes really long showers, sometimes even throwing up in the middle. When you ask him about it in the morning he always says he got sick. For some reason you don't believe him. You wish he would stop doing things that make him cry and get sick.

At 9 you're what most people would call a gifted student. You get all As in school without trying, excelling in math in particular. You spend most of your time drawing blueprints for the various machines you want to build one day. Everything about the education system is easy for you except the social aspect. People make you anxious.

You never stopped counting, you don't think you ever will. You still inspect and separate your food, you still have problems with textures and are still upset by silence, but you're getting better. After a particularly messy breakdown, involving you accidentally gouging bloody scratches into bro's arm and throwing up on him from sheer panic, he decided that getting you medication might be necessary. At first you hated taking it but you're slowly seeing positive results.

You don't see things anymore, that's what you like the most. You aren't followed by shadowy figures and lost voices don't whisper to you. This makes it a lot easier to control and evaluate your emotions, making your moods much more stable in general.

Your new found obsession is anime. You came across it browsing the Internet and fell in love. The bright characters and pretty scenery captivates you. You stay up way past your bedtime and binge watch series. When bro thinks you're asleep you read manga. You even decided to switch out your shades with some pointy anime ones. You just really, really like anime.

At 12 you start making friends. Not in the, 'I'll invite you to my house,' sense but more of, 'I'll talk to you at school if I have to.' You made closer friends online, two girls named Roxy and Jane along with a boy named Jake. You've found it's much easier talking to people online. Bro says he's really proud of you for doing so well. You can't help but smile, throughout your life he's always supported you.

All of the things that use to bother you hardly do anymore. The two main things you still do is inspect your food and count. At least you don't count out loud anymore. And is separating your food even that bad? It's just like making sure a spider isn't on a towel before you use it. You have a feeling these quirks may never go away. But seeing how far you've come you think that's probably okay.

Bro seems to be doing alot better, he stopped going out at night and started working on a movie while going to school. He says it won't get big but he'll take what he can get. You think it'll be a hit, the drunken synopsis he gave you was pretty interesting. Whenever you tell him this he grins and kisses the top of your head. He smiles more lately.

You have more money now, you're no longer living paycheck to paycheck. It makes everyone's life alot less stressful when there's money to spare. With this money bro is buying you all sorts of things. Mostly bits of technology, something you've always shown a keen interest in.

At 14 you're getting pretty sick of the term 'genius' being thrown around. According to the tests you have an extremely high IQ, causing everyone who knows to act alittle odd around you. Bro says it's because they're nervous, maybe even jealous, you don't get it. They were never nervous around you before.

The days where bro would cry over the water bill are a distant memory, it seems odd looking back. You basically went from having nothing to having more than enough in a short period of time, it was kinda hard to adjust at first. Being able to take long showers and order random shit online was a welcome change.

As expected bro made it big. His first movie was a hit, bringing in plenty of money. His face is already recognizable and it's getting pretty hard for you to go out without people flagging him down. The most recent achievement was him winning an Academy Award. Said award is now tucked away in the closet with a few others, completely out of sight. He mumbled something about humility when you asked why they were in such an odd place.

At 17 you honestly don't care how people categorize you. All you know is that something is wrong with your brother. Something is legitimately wrong and you're going to figure out what.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry about any mistakes. Please review!  
Trigger warnings- panicky stuff and mentioned child abuse

* * *

"Gotta go back to the apartment." Dirk glares at you with a less than pleased expression. The show he was watching now completely forgotten. You take a moment to admire his outfit of a naruto shirt with mismatched batman shorts.

"What the fuck, why, are you sick of me already?" He actually sounds somewhat offended. Under the the anger you can see traces of sadness, almost desperation. You wonder if he doesn't like being in Texas.

"Have you forgotten about school?" You scoff when his eyes widen with recognition. He deflates, suddenly defeated at the mention of education. "Besides, I'm coming with you. You turned out to be a terrific scapegoat."

"How long do you have off?" His frown is replaced with a neutral expression. You're glad he's not as upset.

"6 or 7 days, maximum of 8. It really depends on if something idiotic happens."

"So… mini vacation?" He says hopefully, it's not often you get more than 3 days off.

"Exactly."

"When are we leaving?"

"As soon as possible. Pack your shit and get ready."

The two of you go to your bedroom. Dirk starts packing things into his suitcase and you pull out a bag to do the same. While he folds and organized everything into his bag you throw a few sweaters and shirts to into yours. You give a quick glare to the closet full of designer suits, glad you don't have to wear one of those for awhile.

You finish packing quickly and it doesn't take long for Dirk to be ready aswell. Once you're both situated you leave the apartment, turning off the lights and locking the door on the way out. The trip to the airport is uneventful, just plain boring honestly. But it's all worth it if you're going to be home for a week. A week. You haven't had that long off in months.

"For some reason the private jet isn't available so we have to fly on a civilian craft. We'll be in first class though, so that helps."

You go into the airport with Dirk following close behind. After the tediously long check in process you find yourself sitting outside the terminal. Dirk is doing whatever he does on his phone and you're just kinda… staring at the ground. Your eyes droop and you feel yourself lean on something before falling asleep.

"Bro," Dirk pokes you, trying to rise you from sleep. "Bro wake up we have to go." You yawn and stretch, walking to where they process your ticket. Faintly you think the paparazzi probably has some great new photos of you sleeping on your brother. Eventually the two of you are seated in first class and the plane takes off. You pull out a notebook to write down various ideas and scenes in an attempt to entertain yourself.

It seems Dirk drifted off awhile ago, you had to save his phone from falling out of his hand earlier. He's tucked comfortably in the seat and you can't help but feel jealous. You wish you could be asleep but you're rather nervous about sleeping on planes. Actually your rather nervous about planes in general. This particular phobia sucks when you have to fly alot.

Watching out the window you can see the gradual shift of landscapes. The sky is turning fuchsia with tones of gold mixed in here and there. A baby starts crying and a child feels the need to complain. A mother scolds and a father pacifies. All of their conversations layering over each other creating a loud chattering buzz.

This is why you hate flying with other people. They make it loud, suffocating, stagnant. It's like all of the people have sucked up the oxygen leaving you tight and constricted. Everyone is just so loud. So loud and so rude, you wish they would shut up. You wish you were on the ground.

You close your eyes and fold your hands in your lap, ignoring the constant noise surrounding you. You need to maintain composure, being on a plane and freaking out would be a horrible combination. You're focusing on breathing when the pilot announces that you'll be landing soon. You let out a large sigh of relief and look over at your brother. Apparently the speaker wasn't loud enough to rise him so attempt you wake him up. Once the plane hits the ground you start the journey back to the apartment.

* * *

You're looking through your backpack for a notebook to write down a design idea. As you pull out a pencil a blue piece of paper catches your eye. That's when you remember something; parent teacher conferences. Your teachers all but demanded bro and you come. You have a feeling he won't want to do this.

"Hey bro," You stalk into the living room, finding Dave lounging on the couch, watching house hunting shows. When you call him he stares at you and you see he isn't wearing his shades, his hair isn't even brushed.

"What?" He says and then you notice he's still in his pajamas. He usually gets dressed everyday, maybe he's feeling lazy. You can't blame him, after weeks of nearly nonstop work he probably doesn't want to do shit.

"Apparently there is a mandatory parent-student-teacher meeting thing later today." You tell him and he groans.

"How mandatory are we talking? I honestly wanted to lay around all day."

"They told me specifically not to ditch again. Singled me out in class and everything."

"Fuuuuuck. I don't want to talk to your teachers kid."

"We don't HAVE to go. I'd rather stay home."

"If we don't go they'll do something won't they? They'll try to make me talk to them later and I'll be in California. God damnit. I'm going to start homeschooling you, this shit isn't worth it." He sighs and runs a hand across his face, taking a drink of the alcoholic beverage in his hand. "When is this bullshit?"

"In 3 hours or so, It starts at 7."

"Right. Wonderful. This is going to be great." He stands up and walks over to his room. He disappears into it and comes out a few minutes later to go the bathroom. The shower turns on so you go back to your room. You're lying on the bed when the laptop next to you dings. Rolling over you look at the screen. Jane messaged you.

You talk about Jake for awhile, her expressing concerns about his safety. Then she tells you about a cake decorating contest she won. Apparently everyone else made ugly carrot cakes while hers was a pretty carrot cake. You're in the middle of learning about different frosting types and styles when you look at the time. It's 7:30, maybe you should get going. You tell Jane you have to go and she says goodbye.

When you walk back into the living room Dave is sitting on the futon. He's wearing a burgundy suit with a black shirt and tie. He looks pretty fancy, you don't know what you were expecting though. When you walk over to him he mumbles something you can't quite make out.

"We should probably go."

"Can you drive?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Alittle. I didn't know I had to do shit when I downed a glass and a half of scotch."

"Will you be good?"

"Yeah, I go to every social function like this, just don't want to cause a car accident."

"Alright let me grab my keys." You look around until you come across the keychain. Once Dave puts on the suit jacket you're out the door. He stumbles down the stairs with you following close behind. In the parking lot you walk to the car and climb in the driver's side. He sits shotgun and you're on your way.

"Dirk I don't want to do this."

"I don't either."

"Do you think people will try to talk to me?"

"Maybe. I don't know. They might not recognize you."

"I should have worn something else."

"The suit doesn't exactly scream normal civilian."

"Damn. I'm not good at this. I've never done this before."

"You did it when I went to grade school."

"Yes and that turned out so well."

"You're a fucking Hollywood icon. Why are you scared of high school teachers?"

"I never really had the whole 'highschool experience'. I'm not confident in my abilities to act like a decent guardian."

"You're don't need to act like anything, just do whatever you do normally. And what do you mean? You went to highschool, right?"

"I went to like half of freshman year and then enrolled in online school."

"I didn't know that. It'll be fine though, you're overthinking."

"I guess."

You pull up to the school, shitty cars are sloppily parked all over. You get out of the vehicle and lead him into the building. Walking into the gym you're greeted by various teachers sitting at tables. There are lines of students and parents waiting to talk with them. You walk to your first period teacher and begin the wait.

Both of you are on your phones, turned to each other and basically cutting off everyone else. Every now and again you show him a random internet post you found funny. He smirks slightly, so slightly that only a Strider could tell. The line moves slowly and the surrounding people stare at both you and Dave. After a few more minutes you're sitting in front of your English teacher. Dave crosses his legs, resting his hands on his knee while you sit next to him. You see the teacher blush slightly before talking.

"I'm Ms. White, you must be Dirk's brother." She holds out her hand and dave shakes it.

"Yeah I'm Dave. It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, uh… likewise." She pauses, blushing again. "I guess my only concern is the sunglasses. Are they really necessary? He refuses to take them off every time I tell him to remove them. You are aware they are against dress code, correct?"

"I'm very familiar with your dress code, I've literally had this conversation more times than I can count. I know every single sexist word of that dress code. But if he doesn't have the shades the lights will be too bright and he won't be able to see shit. You are aware he has a note from the principle, correct?"

"I understand." She says awkwardly, "Dirk is an excellent student, thank you for coming."

You stand up and he follows. You do this with the remainder of your teachers. They all get incredibly flustered or intimidated when Dave introduces himself. Most of the questions are about your shades, a few teaches saying you pay no attention in class. Which is true, you hardly listen to anything said throughout the school day. After an hour of this you finally finish speaking with the last teacher. On your way out the building Dave suggests going to IHOP. Deciding that's a great idea you turn on the car and go to the first International House of Pancakes you can find.

* * *

"Bro, who raised you?" You're bored and can't sleep. So naturally, you decided to ask your brother some questions you've been too apprehensive to ask before.

"What, why?" He frowns at you from his position on top of a dining room chair. What is he doing?

"Well, I was just thinking and you've never mentioned any other family." Throughout your whole life he's told you 'I'm your mom and your dad. You hatched out of an egg like every other Strider. Caw caw motherfucker.'

"We're Striders, that's all that matters."

"That doesn't even address the question."

"Can this wait until morning? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Why not now? It's obvious you're not going to bed anytime soon and I'm already awake. What are you doing anyways, dusting?"

"Someone's gotta do it, and it's obviously not going to be you."

"You're still avoiding the question."

"You're a persistent little shit, you know that right?"

"Yeah, you've told me multiple times. But stop dodging the damn question. How can this be so hard?"

"Fucking hell." He lets out an exasperated breath before putting down the feather duster. "If we're having this conversation I'm going to be at least slightly intoxicated." Walking to the freezer he pulls out a bottle of rum and pours some in a glass with ice.

By now you're curious, you were going to give up if he dodged the question again but now you're not going to. You follow him to the couch where he sits down and takes a large sip of his beverage.

"I was raised by someone called Bro." You wait for some type of further explanation but don't get anything

"Just Bro? Do they have an actual name?"

"If he has another name he never told me."

"Didn't you ask?" You're startled when he full out laughs.

"I never thought about it." He doesn't continue after that. It seems you're going to have to lead this conversation.

"So you were raised by someone called… Bro Strider?" He nods, "where did you live?"

"We're sitting in it," he pats the futon and you look around the apartment.

"That's alittle weird." Is this why he refuses to move?

He shrugs, "haven't put much thought into it."

"Alright so we have an older brother you just… Never told me about?"

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"Dude what the fuck."

"Ok look, he was kind of a douchebag. I don't think you need to be subjected to that type of shit. It's really not important."

"It's important!" You pause while you look over him. He doesn't seem very anxious, which is odd to you. He seems alittle... angry? "Okay, well, do we have patents?"

He doesn't say anything for awhile. You just sit for one or two minutes. Eventually, you break the silence. "Bro?"

"Alright, you know what?" He downs the last of his drink, "you want to hear the history of the Striders? You fucking asked for it kid so here we go." In your entire life he's never talked to you in that tone. You're alittle intimidated to be honest.

"So there's cute lil' 5 year old Dave Strider. He's chilling in his room waiting for his big bro to come home, maybe bring him food. But guess what? Guess fucking what Dirk? He never. fucking. came." You pull in a breath.

"Fast forward a year, I asked the exact fucking question you just did. I came home from kindergarten on Mother's Day, alittle dejected because I didn't have a mom like every other kid. It was one of the rare times Bro was home so I stupidly went up and asked 'do we have parents?' He proceeded to take me to the roof to strife until I couldn't see straight and passed out. Blood running down my face into my eyes, arm fractured and ankle sprained. So I don't know Dirk, I have no fucking idea who our parents are. I don't think it really matters."

Your eyes are wide while you stare at him from across the couch. He shifts awkwardly and you clear your throat. How do you even respond to something like that? You want to keep asking questions. You have a feeling this is the first time he's told anybody anything about this.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"What else did he do?"

"Kid…"

"You don't have to tell me but I want to know." You honestly didn't think he was going to continue but he does. You stay silent, listening to every word carefully.

"It really wasn't that bad. He just never came home. And when he did he would strife with me and yell at me, saying I used too much water or heat or something like that. Then he'd leave for a few months."

"What did you eat?"

"I ate pop tarts and packs of ramen mostly. Basically all the appliances were out of commission so I just ate whatever I could find."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" If you could see your face it would probably be horrified. And this is where the conversation stops. He gets up, pats your head softly and retreats into his room. You're left wondering about the answer to your question.


	5. Chapter 5

I forgot to mention there are background characters in this story. They help patch together and explain the history of dave and dirk.  
Trigger warnings- child abuse, suicide attempt, panic attacks

* * *

Your name is Dave strider and it's your 13th birthday. Like every other birthday you get your hopes up only to have them shattered completly. You brother has never been home for one of these days, he never gets you a present, he doesn't even send you a text. But every year you tell yourself that he might come home, he might remember.

You step out to the living room, tripping over a katana left on the ground, cutting your foot in the process. You pull yourself up and go to the bathroom to bandage your foot. You cringe at the wound, it's pretty deep, blood flowing steadily from the cut. After a few minutes you realize you had been staring at the red pooling on the tile. Quickly you bandage yourself and clean up.

You go back into the living room to find it empty, as expected. After looking around for some food you find none. You're not too sure why you even looked in the first place. It's not like something to eat would suddenly appear overnight. You go back into your room and grab a pop tart from its hiding place in the closet. You feel sadness building up in your gut. This is supposed to be a special day but anything from your brother? No, that was too much to ask.

You sigh heavily and lay down on your bed. Maybe you could sleep through this whole day. That would be nice. You end up laying in your bed, staring at the texturized ceiling. The people below you are having a pretty intense fight. They always make up though, you know because after you can hear the obscene sounds of their makeup sex. Disgusting.

You roll over and try not to think about your brother, but you can't stop yourself. If he cares so little for you why try? It'd probably be better for him if you were gone anyways. Rising from your bed you grab your phone and go into the hall. You climb the remaining stairs to the roof and sit against the wall. Taking out your phone you text Bro.

TG: _do you hate me_  
TT: _I thought I told you not to text me unless it was an emergency._  
TG: _right sorry_  
TT: _To answer your question, I'm indifferent._

You don't reply, slowly walking over to the ledge of the building and look down.

TG: _would you be happier if i was gone_  
TT: _What the fuck._  
TT: _Are you pulling some weird suicidal bullshit?_  
TT: _You sad because your big bro doesn't come home for your birthday?_

Oh, so he does remember. Wonderful.

TT: _Such a hard life, lil man._  
TG: _is that yes or no_  
TT: _What do you think?_  
TG: _yes_  
TT: _Well there you go. See, you're a smart kid. You can put two and two_ _together._

You feel tears building up in your eyes. You knew he didn't like you but not as much as this conversation is indicating. You wipe your eyes and try to reply with shaking fingers.

TG: _should I jump_

There is no reply for a minute until your phone buzzes again.

TT: _I'd like to see you try._

So you inch closer to the edge. If he wants you to do it, then why not? He's the only person who knows you exist, who pays attention to you. If you being gone would make him happy then who are you to say no?You're about to jump, you're literally one foot off the edge, when you hear a winded female voice from behind you.

"Wait, KID! Don't do this."

You look over your shoulder to see the girl from the apartment below you with her boyfriend close behind. They both have terrified expressions and it makes you freeze.

"Why not?" You hear yourself ask in a broken whisper. Tears still running down your cheeks from behind your shades.

"You have so much to live for." She steps closer, alittle breathless. "I know it's hard now but doing this won't solve anything."

She's wrong, that's all you can think. She's so fucking wrong. It will solve so many problems, Bro won't have to look after you anymore, he'll be happy. You want him to be happy. Maybe he'll love you once you're gone. A strangled sob leaves you as you shake your head.

"You don't understand." You whimper, her expression has turned from terrified to desperate.

"I know, I know I don't understand. But doing this won't help."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do."

"I'm not needed."

"You are needed." She says firmly.

"I'm not wanted."

"You are wanted!" She about yells. Her boyfriend puts a hand on her shoulder and she calms down.

"By who?"

"Me, and my boyfriend." He nods frantically, "We both want you, we want you to live. So please, for the love of god, step away from the ledge." She's begging by now. Damn it, you can't fling yourself off a building with two people watching, trying to make you stop. You're not that selfish. You back away and she wraps you in a tight hug.

You flinch instinctively, you've never had someone touch you that wasn't hurting you. But… This is nice. Even if she doesn't know you, she cares. And that's all you really want, for someone to care. Then your phone buzzes. You detach yourself from her and look at the messages. She's staring at you as you read.

TT: _Are you still alive?_  
TT: _My friends brought to my attention that I may have handled our previous conversation wrong._  
TT: _I don't want you to jump off the roof lil man._  
TT: _Do you know how much shit I would have to deal with if you killed yourself?_  
TT: _So just… don't jump off the roof. I'll be home in a few days with a present and food._

By now you're sobbing grossly. You can't control your breathing at all, it's coming in short gasps that don't provide enough oxygen. You're most definitely having a breakdown. You text back, almost dropping your phone.

TG: _ok_  
TT: _That's a good kid._  
TT: _Now go back inside and drink some of the vodka in the freezer. It will make you feel better._  
TG: _ok_

You're still trying to control your breathing when you feel yourself being lead somewhere. You should be freaking out, trying to stop them, but you don't care. You don't care about anything right now. You're placed on a dirty couch where a small cat curls up in your lap. You sit in a stranger's apartment, crying your eyes out, completely inconsolable. The girl sits next to you, softly rubbing her hand up and down your back. You've never had someone be so gentle and nice to you.

It takes you a solid 5 minutes to stop crying, by now a whole group of kittens and a mom cat have surrounding you. Meowing softly and licking your hands. Once all that comes from you is a soft sniffle the girl starts talking.

"When's the last time you ate something?"

"Uh," your voice is hoarse, "A few hours ago?"

"What did you eat?

"Pop tart." Why is she asking you this?

"I'll be right back." She exits the room and comes back a few minutes later with a sandwich of some sort. She hands it to you and you apprehensively take a bite. It's warm, and cheesy. Really good too. You eat it all in about three bites.

"Thank you. What was that?" Her jaw drops, apparently you said something shocking.

"That was a grilled cheese sandwich… have you never had one?" You shake your head and she sits next to you again. "Before you ate the poptart, when was the last time you ate?"

You should leave, Bro told you if someone starts asking questions like this to either lie or leave. You don't really want to leave though, so you lie. You're pretty good at lying anyways. You've gotta think on your toes when you show up at school with a black eye and swollen lip.

"Dunno, like 8 last night? Bro got Asian food."

"Where is your brother now?"

"Work." Another lie. You can't tell if she believes you or not.

"Who were you texting earlier?"

"Bro."

"What was he saying?"

"Told me to go back inside."

"Did he say anything else?" It looks like she's expecting something. What would a normal person say if their kid brother was about to jump off a roof.

"Told me he loves me." Your voice cracks in the middle of the word 'loves' but you don't cry. That would be far too suspicious, not that your behavior wasn't suspicious in the first place.

It's quiet for awhile until her boyfriend appears from one of the rooms. He looks between the two of you before sitting in an armchair next to her.

"What's your name kid?" He asks, you recognize his deep, booming voice from their fights. You're somewhat scared of him to be honest. He reminds you of bro only shorter and less toned.

"Dave," you inform them awkwardly. "uh, Strider. Dave Strider." He nods before continuing.

"I'm Charles and this is my girlfriend Nina. How old are you?" He's trying to appear non threatening but it's not working very well.

"I jus' turned 13." Horror graces both of their faces before they can gain composure. Why is that alarming?

"When did you turn 13?" She asks hesitantly.

"Today."

"Oh!" Her voice raised in pitch, sounding alittle manic. "Are you going to do anything special for the big day?"

For some reason the way she said that pisses you off. You feel a surge of anger that shouldn't be there and really shouldn't be directed at her.

"Haha, yeah got some totally stellar plans. The majority of 'em involved me plummetin' off a 25 story building to my fucking demise. But now I'm totally free, my calendar is wide open. Because I don't know if you can tell or not, but I'm not fuckin' dead."

She starts to say something but, honestly, you don't want to hear it. You stand up, walk to the door and leave before they can stop you.


	6. Chapter 6

blah blah blah. please review  
Trigger warnings- descriptions of child abuse

* * *

Your hands are literally inside of a robot, fiddling with delicate wires when there is a loud knock on the front door. You're not about to distract yourself from your current activities, so you ignore it. It's probably not important anyways.

You think they're gone but a minute later there is another loud knock, apparently they're not going to leave. You grunt and stand up, trying to get all of the excess oil from your hands onto your already dirty shirt. Dave would kill you if you got oil on the furniture or walls, god forbid the carpet.

As you walk to the door you try to think of people it could be. Maybe it was the postman, you did order some computer parts a few weeks ago. It would be nice if they came, the robots need more and more parts as you add on. You slide on your shades and open the door. Your package is here, but along with two random people. You grab the box and inspect the pair. It's a middle aged man and woman, they seem to be married.

"Can I help you?" You ask politely, but you come off alittle defensive. You just don't like the way these people look. They seem too nice, too normal.

"Hello! I was wondering if Dave was around?" The girl asks, you stare at her for a moment. How does she know your brother? And furthermore, how does she know he lives here?

"I think you have the wrong address. Sorry." Talking to these people spells trouble. The best course of action is to abscond on out of this situation. You're closing the door when you hear the man start to speak. His voice is deep, imposing to be honest.

"I see. Well, if you see him tell him we came by." You close the door and lock it. Well, that was weird, whatever. It probably won't happen again. You go back to the room and continue your robotic activities. God, you hate being interrupted.

* * *

You've decided to move the machine you're working on to the living room. You can't continue working in the confines of your room and you don't think Dave would care. Even if he did he would probably be too exhausted to say anything. So it's a solid plan.

Sitting on the futon you type code while a random channel is playing at a low volume in the background. Complete silence is eerie, you've never liked it. Even as a child you would have Dave buy you fans because you couldn't fall asleep while it was quiet. As you got older he couldn't control if you slept with the tv on and gave up trying to stop you. It's not like we have to be economical about everything anymore.

You're so focused on programming you hardly realise there was a knock on the door. Suddenly, there is Deja vu from yesterday, you really hope it's not the same person. You set the laptop next to you and walk to the door. Looking through the peephole you see the couple from yesterday, just your luck. Not thinking ahead you stupidly opened the door.

"Hi, why are you here again?" Once again you fail to be polite. You didn't really try to be nice this time.

"We are wondering if Dave was here yet." The man asks and the woman smiles.

"Listen, you have the wrong place. I really need to go so have a nice day." You close the door, making sure to lock it, and take out your phone to call Dave. After a couple of rings he picks up.

"Sup?" You can hear multiple people talking in the background

"Are you busy?"

"I'm always busy, but I can talk. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just these two people have knocked on the door asking if you were here for two days straight."

"You should probably stop answering the door."

"Yeah I know, I don't really know why I answered the second time. I figure they're paparazzi? I have no idea how they could have found the address though."

"Stop answering the door. If they keep coming tell me and i'll fly out there to sort shit out."

"Alright. Oh uh, also..." you pause for a minute, gathering courage. "I burnt a hole in the carpet."

"What the hell, how?!" He almost screeches before taking a deep breath. "How big of a hole are we talking here?"

"Ok… don't get mad at me. I was working with that mini torch I got awhile ago. And I know you always tell me to go to the roof to do welding shit but it's so much fucking work dragging it up there. Not to mention the thing i'm building is way too heavy for me to carry that far. I thought it would be okay because it's a tiny flame and easy to control. Well, it turns out I was wrong and now there's a burn about the size of my hand on the carpet."

"Dirk, you're killing me here, I am literally dead."

"Sorry."

"It's fine, don't worry about it. I'll deal with it when I come back. Just please don't burn the apartment down."

"I'll try my best, no promises though." He chuckles dryly.

"Wonderful. I gotta go now but I'll come home soon. Love ya." He hangs up, he sounded kinda rushed near the end there. You really thought he would have been more upset. Well, that just means less trouble for you.

* * *

Man, you wish there was an invention that would cook things instantly. Maybe you should work on a machine like that. You've been staring at this pizza in the oven for the last five minutes. You're so hungry but this shit takes time. Time you don't have.

You're in the middle of a boss battle in a new game but your hunger is stronger than your will to keep playing. Still, you wish this would hurry up so you could get back to it. Standing and waiting is so boring.

Then, you hear the enemy of the last couple of days. A loud knock echoes through the apartment and you mutter a few words of annoyance. You should probably call Dave. You return to staring at the pizza while the phone rings.

"Hey kid."

"The people knocked on the door again." Might aswell get to the point. He's probably busy.

"They're being rather persistent." He says but there is an anxious tone to his voice.

"I know. I honestly don't know how they even know you live here." Both of you have been extremely careful when it comes to keeping Dave's personal life personal.

"Eugh, I don't even want to think about it. What do they look like?" You walk to the door and look through the peephole.

"Well, they're a middle aged couple. A man and woman around 50 or so? The woman is a classy indian lady and the guy looks like he could be Steve Erwin's twin." He pauses for a moment.

"I might actually know them."

"What? How!"

"From when I was a kid, if they show up tomorrow ask them what their names are. If it's Nina and Charles invite them inside."

"What should I say?" You don't want to have to entertain two adults on your own.

"Just tell them you're sorry for shutting the door on them and offer them a drink or something. Be polite, I think I taught you how to do that."

"I'll try." You let out an annoyed huff and he laughs.

"It's probably not them anyways, so don't worry. I'm booking a flight now so I should be home sometime tomorrow night."

"Alright, see you."

"Bye."

You hang up and realize something smells off. It smells like something is… burning? Oh shit. You run to kitchen and find a charred pizza sitting in the oven. This is horrible! You quickly take out the ruined pizza and turn off the heat. All you can do is stand there as you mourn the loss of your dinner.

You've never been so disappointed in your life.

* * *

You're in the living room again, surrounded by various computers and other random things. After hours of messing with random files you're finally making some progress.

Earlier you were cleaning and fixing parts of old machines but you were getting sick of having oil caked on your hands. You take a break from typing and watch the random commercials playing on the TV.

The daily knock on the door has come but you weren't prepared. You jump slightly, completely caught off guard from the sudden noise. You feel your arm knock something over and when you look your stomach drops. You just spilt black motor oil on white carpet.

Dave is going to be so pissed.

You pick up the now empty bottle of oil and put it in the kitchen sink. Next, you answer the door. You would ignore them and focus on the carpet but Dave is coming home soon and will want to know who the people pestering him are. You open the door, not waiting for them to say anything.

"Uh, what are your names?" You ask frantically. Honestly you could care less about them right now. All you can think about is that huge fucking puddle of oil in the middle of the living room carpet.

"I am Nina and this is my husband Charles." Shit, these are the people Dave was telling you about.

"Fuck, okay. You can come in." You let them in and close the door. While talking to them you search for cleaning supplies.

"So first off Dave wanted me to apologize for my earlier behavior. He wants to fend off any paparazzi so I was just taking precautions. He'll be home tomorrow so you can ask him all about it then." You find some carpet cleaner but don't know where to go from here.

"And I guess I'm supposed to offer you guys a drink or something? He told me to be polite and trust me, I'm trying. But I happen to have a huge fucking mess on my hands and Dave is going to be mega upset if he finds out what I did." You find bleach and a bucket under the kitchen sink. Now you're even more lost, what should you use?!

"What is this mess you're talking about?" She asks calmly. Then something registers, she might be able to help!

"Oh my lord, can you help me?"

"I can certainly try."

"Alright so I was sitting in the living room, doing programming as usual when suddenly, a loud ass knock on the door made me jump. Said jump caused me to knock over a bottle of oil right on the carpet. On the very carpet that Dave always tells me to not destroy." You let out a long breath as she examines the stain.

"Oh sweetie" she looks up at you and smiles warmly "this isn't going to come out easily."

That's the opposite of what you wanted to hear. "But it will come out, right?"

"I can't really say yes or no." You hum anxiously and sit on the couch, staring at the stain with disgust.

"Staring at it isn't going to fix anything. Get something to scrape up the excess oil."

"Like a spoon?"

"Perhaps a butter knife, and a towel." Ok, you can do that. You grab a knife from the drawer and an already oil stained towel from your room. You hand the items over and sit down next to her. She starts scraping the oil from the carpet and you look up at her husband.

"You can sit on the futon. Just put the computers on the ground if they're in your way." He sits, moving the machines like they'll break with the slightest touch.

"What will Dave do if he finds out you spilt oil on the carpet?" He asks, and you're once again reminded that his voice is deep as fuck.

"Honestly, he'd probably tell me not to worry about it." You laugh awkwardly, "I just feel bad because I burnt a hole in the carpet of my room a few days ago and he was really chill about it. I know if I call him and tell him there is a huge stain in the living room it will just be one more stressful thing he has to deal with."

"Maybe you should put towels down before you play with fire and oil." She chimes softly. "I don't know what to do now, could you look up how to get oil out of carpet?" Why didn't you think of that? You pull out your phone and do as she requested. You click the first link and start reading.

"It says to sprinkle baking soda or cornstarch on the stain. I don't know if we have either of those."

"Has Dave ever made pancakes or something alone those lines?" You honestly have no idea why she asked you that.

"Yeah, once or twice. Why?"

"Then you probably have baking soda. Look around the kitchen." You pick yourself off the floor and rummage through the cabinets. After a minute or two of searching you come across a bag labeled baking soda. You literally had no idea this was here. You don't even know what it's used for.

"I found it… I think." You show her the bag and she nods, taking it from you. She sprinkles some on the stain. You look at the webpage full of instructions again. "We have to let it sit there for 15 minutes."

Glancing at the futon you see it's still half covered in technology. "Let me move all these hunks of metal so you can sit down. It'll only take a second." You grab the remaining computers and throw them on the ground of your room haphazardly. You should probably be more careful. By the time you return she's sitting on the futon. You grab a nearby office chair and sit down too.

"So you must be Dirk." Nina says, that wasn't really what you were expecting.

"Yeah, how exactly do you know me again?" You've never met her, why does she know you?

"I helped take care of you when you were a small child. It was awhile ago so I'm not surprised you don't remember. You've grown into such a fine young man." You can't help question the fact that she called you a 'fine young man' after hearing you curse and make a fool of yourself for the past 20 minutes.

"So you knew my brother from when he was young?"

"Yes. Has he told you about his childhood?"

"Not exactly. I figured out some stuff when I questioned him about our parents a week or two ago. But he doesn't really like talking about it. All I know is he was raised by a dude named Bro who was sort of an asshole. I guess he's my brother too?"

"I don't find it surprising he won't talk about it. He probably has a hard time thinking about it, let alone bringing it to the surface."

"Well… Could you tell me about it?"

"To be frank I don't know much either. We met him when he was 13 and in a bad place. From there on we started to check up on him periodically. Every time he wouldn't let us go in the apartment and tell us that bro was at work or at the store. Basically he was always home alone."

"We started to figure out he wasn't eating rather quickly. How could a child get groceries and cook by themselves? They can't. So we started to bring him food and cook him meals. I'm pretty sure that was the only food he ate that didn't come in a plastic wrapper."

"The thing we found quite disturbing was when Bro would actually come home. You probably know the walls in this complex are paper thin so we could hear a lot of what Bro said. He yelled at Dave for basically anything he did. I once listened to Bro curse out and insult Dave for minutes on end just for looking at him wrong. The poor kid never cried, he didn't even react, at least not until his brother was gone."

"But then there was when Bro and Dave would go to the roof to fight. While training to fight is one thing, taking your 13 year old brother to a roof to fight with a real sword and no prior experience is another thing entirely. Sometimes I watched and basically Bro would knock the sword out of Dave's hands and proceed to beat him up for dropping it. He always left Dave bleeding on the roof after this, we usually had to help him to his apartment and a few times times he actually passed out."

You stay quiet, once again studying the couple. They're not exactly the type of people you would expect to have lived in these shitty apartments. Then again, you didn't expect your brother to have been neglected and abused his whole childhood.

"What was he like?"

"Hmm," she thinks for a few seconds before answering. "I'm pretty sure he went through life doing whatever people told him to do. He tried to please everyone and I think that caused him to internalize alot."

"He had a lie for everything, he was good at hiding the truth. I think it's one of the few things his brother taught him. When I asked if he ate recently he would always tell me Bro brought him takeout for dinner. That story is believable for awhile, but eventually I figured it out. If you hear the same thing over and over you tend to get suspicious."

"In general he was a good and polite kid. But if you upset him he would be so passive aggressive, it was almost unbearable. He went to school and didn't get into fights. At least as far as I know. He didn't seem to have any friends, nobody ever came to his house and he never left except for school."

"He really liked his brother, I'm not too sure why but he idolized him as his hero. He wanted to make Bro proud and he tried accomplishing that by doing whatever he was told to do. I'm pretty sure his main goal was to get some sort of affection from Bro. Of course, that never happened."

It lapses into silence until the girl locks eyes with you and you can't seem to look away, "How is he?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure." You exhale, not sure why you're even telling these people this. "He was fine up until awhile ago. And then he started doing all this weird shit he never did before."

"Like what?" She looks really concerned, are you missing something here?

"I guess it started when he came back from California. Maybe a year or so ago, I don't remember. Anyways, he came home and went into his room like any other night. He probably thought I was asleep, it was 3 AM so I should have been. After 30 minutes I took off my headphones and realized he was crying. I thought it would be a one time thing and went to bed."

"Let me guess, it wasn't a one time thing." She adds sadly.

"Almost every night I hear him crying himself to sleep. Every time he comes home he breaks down. At first he would go to his room and cry but after awhile he would come in and instantly start sobbing. Just out of fucking nowhere he starts flipping his shit and it's really, really hard to get through to him."

"So you've attempted to calm him when he's like that?" She asks, slight awe in her voice.

"Well, yeah. I can't just leave him there, that'd be really messed up. He usually doesn't let me get close to him so I end up talking to him about random things. I say whatever comes to mind, it helps more often than not."

"What do you do when it doesn't help?" Charles asks suddenly and you look at him apprehensively.

"Err… I take him to his room and stay there until he falls asleep. If he doesn't respond to me talking to him I don't really know what else to do." Why is this dude so intimidating?

"What you're doing is exactly right. You're a very kind young man, I'm glad Dave raised you so well. Please continue to look after him, he's not as strong as he makes himself out to be." You nod lightly, slightly taken aback, and she smiles. "Now let's finish cleaning the carpet, shall we?"


	7. Chapter 7

why do i write things like this? sorry about any mistakes  
trigger warnings- underage prostitution, neglect.

* * *

It's sometime in December and you're 16, you're pretty sure Dirk is 4. You don't actually know. It's unreasonably cold and without heating you have to wrap Dirk in layers of clothes and blankets to keep him warm. You sit on the bed with him in your lap and the comforter draped over your shoulders. You read to him, it's all you have. You can't afford toys or anything like that, so you read to him and he draws. Sometimes you try to teach him math but you're not very smart in the first place.

But now he's following your finger as you read a random children's book about a cat. You found it in a donation box and decided to snatch it. Dirk seems to like the story, he giggles occasionally and asks you to read it again as soon as it ends. Of course you oblige, because it's good when he's distracted. He starts to get antsy when he's bored and that's never fun.

You're in the middle of reading how the grey cat got lonely so it ran away from home when there is a knock on the front door. You freeze and Dirk looks up at you curiously. You're glad he doesn't quite understand how jumpy you are. Standing, you pat his head and hand him the book.

"Why don't you try reading this on your own? Stay in here while I go answer the door."

"Okay." Dirk murmurs, looking over the book. You creep out of the bedroom and walk over to the door. Looking out the peephole you see a middle aged man that you recognize as the landlord. Shit.

You grab your shades off the table and throw on a sweatshirt to hide your bruises. Sadly you're well aware the hickies on your neck are incredibly noticeable. They knock again so you decide to open the door. You stand awkwardly as he glances over you.

"Is your brother here?" He asks, looking past you and into the apartment.

"Naw but I can give him a message."

"Tell him I need the rent money. I've held out and stayed patient for long enough. It's been months and I haven't seen a penny! I need some money or I'm going to have to go to drastic measures."

You shiver at the words, this is exactly the opposite of what you need right now. You are so, so thankful of your shades because tears rim your eyes. You nervously play with your hands as you try to think of an answer.

"How much do ya' need?" You reply sheepishly. He doesn't answer for awhile, an unreadable expression on his face.

"3 months." That sounds bad but honestly it means nothing to you. You don't know how much it costs to rent an apartment. You feel hopeless.

"Uh, I'm no good at numbers and stuff, can you just give me a dollar estimate or something?" You're trying to look in control but it probably isn't working very well. Again, he doesn't say anything, eyes lingering on your bruised face and neck.

"$2,400, it's $800 a month."

You visibly jump, that's more than you could ever make. You need literally all of your money for food and basic necessities. You're about to burst into tears when a little voice is heard behind you. You turn around to see Dirk standing with the book in his hands.

"I finished it." He says happily, smiling up at you with bright amber eyes. You smirk, putting on a brave face.

"Oh, that's great kiddo," you kneel down to his level. "Why don't you go back into the room and read it aloud so you can show me when I get back." Dirk nods and totters back into the bedroom. You pick yourself off the ground and face the landlord again.

"I'll tell bro," you try to continue but your voice cracks. He's staring as you struggle to find your words again. "I'll figure somethin' out so please, please let us stay." You try to subtly wipe a tear before it falls down your cheek but your movements are stiff and jerky. You know he can see right through you, you're the dictionary definition of uncool.

"We literally don't have anywhere else to go." Your voice fails and you grip the fabric of your sweatshirt. You can't look at him, you're humiliated. This is shameful. What happened to being stoic, the strider stare? No wonder bro hates you. Out of the corner of your eye you see the landlords eyebrows tilt up, a sad expression falling on his face. He sighs heavily before continuing.

"Listen, don't worry about it." He says softly, moving alittle closer. Those words make you break, tears roll down your face from behind your shades. You cover your mouth as you desperately try to keep from sobbing. He attempts to comfort you by putting a hand on your shoulder only to remove it when you flinch harshly. You can't help it, you're so scared. Terrified even. You can't lose the apartment. He frowns, stepping away slightly. "I got you covered. Just forget about this whole conversation."

"Thank you." You take a deep breath, wiping the tears off your face. "Thank you so much. We'll pay you back soon, I promise." Taking another choppy breath you repeat, "I promise."

"It's fine, if you need anything feel free to come to me." He seems really concerned, you let him see too much. You nod and as soon as the door closes you let out a broken sob. You know the landlord is still outside and will hear you but you can't stop. This is too much, you can't handle this. If Bro stops paying rent what are you supposed to do?

You can't pay the heating, gas or electric. You can hardly keep up with the water bill. Paying rent would be impossible. You'd have to work the streets every single fucking night, you'd have to figure out a way to do cam shows again. Yet that's impossible because your laptop is dead and you have no internet connection.

Frantically you try to get yourself together, you need to suck it up and be strong. You can do it. You sniff and clumsily make your way back to the bedroom. Dirk is waiting in the bed, hiding under the covers. You smile when his head pops out and he sticks his tongue out at you. You flop onto the bed, laying on top of him, causing him to burst into a fit of high pitched giggles. You pull him into a tight hug, laughter continuing to fill the room. That's right, do it for Dirk. You can do this for Dirk.

* * *

You're slowly walking down the street at 3am, slightly shaking. You follow the streetlights back to the apartment, stumbling every now and then. You always get alittle weird when you work the town. An out of body experience really. Sometimes you can't even remember what happened, it goes blank until you find yourself in a random location, much like now.

Eventually you make it down a few blocks, a car or two honking at you on the way. You shudder, not knowing if it was caused by emotions or the cold. Once outside of the apartment building you run a hand over your face. You pull out a stolen cigarette and with shaking hands fish out a match. After lighting it you lean against the wall, taking a drag while staring at the purple and blue sky. Everything is alittle blurry, bright in the wrong places. You're having a hard time focusing.

A nearby door opens but you don't pay it much mind. You let a hand fall to your side, desperation filling you. You kinda want to die. _Wait, what?_ You don't mean that, do you? You don't really know. You can't think about this right now. You open your eyes and spot the landlord watching from a few feet away. You gasp and about drop the cigarette, shocked by his sudden appearance. You feel your heart in your throat as you stare at each other. You're scared he's going to ask for money or yell at you. You didn't know what to expect but it really wasn't him handing you a plastic bag of books.

"I saw your little brother was reading children's books and I had some old ones lying around. I thought you could use them."

You look at the bag and then the ground, that's so nice. After everything he's being so nice. Why are people so kind to someone like you? You take another drag and attempt to look at him. You end up glancing at him for about 10 seconds before shying away.

"Thanks." Your voice is small, broken. It's identical to how you feel. "Dirk will really like 'em."

"Is Dirk his name?" He asks gently, continuing to stand a few feet away.

"Yeah," You say barely above a whisper.

"Has he always lived with you?" You shake your head, "when did he move in?"

"'Dunno, few years ago maybe."

"How old is he?"

"He's 4."

"So he's pretty small." You shrug awkwardly and he continues. "You're pretty small too. Aren't you alittle young to be smoking?"

You laugh dryly, watching a cat cross the street. Yes, you're too young to be smoking cigarettes, you're also far too young to be selling yourself on street corners. But that doesn't seem to stop you. After a few minutes you sigh with a broken smirk.

"I guess." You put out the cigarette and throw the butt out to the street. You're getting really tired of this.

"Why are you out so late?" He asks with worry. You knew the conversation would eventually come to this. Good thing you prepared an excuse long ago.

"I was at a party, like kids my age are known to do." You didn't mean to sound so snarky, it just came out. You're such a piece of shit. You scramble and try to fix what you just fucked up.

"Sorry, I'm real tired." You plead and he nods. "Thanks alot for the books. Dirk likes tracin' the animals from the pictures so he'll be stoked."

You say goodbye and stagger up the stairs to the top floor. Everything is quiet, unfocused, and buzzing. You struggle with the keys until you're back in the cold apartment. You lock everything behind you and go straight to the bathroom. Showering quickly, you try to force panicked thoughts to the back of your mind. By the time you're in bed everything is numb. You pull the blankets over your sore body and try to relax. It's only when Dirk crawls in and curls up next to you are you finally able to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

DIALOG  
Trigger warning- panic attack

* * *

"I need to take a break." Your strained voice cracks when you mutter to the assistant next to you. You woke up with a migraine that has only gotten worse as the day progressed. Having to repeat yourself every five minutes doesn't help. You're pretty sure he was ignoring you until he finally replies.

"We're almost done with this scene though. Just a few more takes." You grumble something to yourself that he actually ignores. Aren't you the boss in this situation? You feel anger and a numbing sadness fill your gut. You can't do this, you need to leave. Suddenly, you stand up and walk right out of the room.

"Mr. Strider! Where are you going?" They sound genuinely confused and alittle concerned. You figure all of the actors and film crew are staring at you by now. Somehow, that pisses you off. You're not a fucking spectacle.

"Fuck. Off." You're not usually one to snap so the compele shock on your assistant's face isn't too out of line. Dirk would be proud of you, you just told everyone to fuck off and left like he tells you to do almost every week. Before the door closes you hear someone ask, 'what did we do wrong?'

In the hallway you try to fight back the tears in your eyes. You wander until you find an empty room where you collapse against the wall. Your office is pretty far away so you have no other choice. You're slightly freaking out and don't really know what to do. Maybe you could call Dirk, he always helps. You dial his number and wait for him to pick up. By the second ring you realize you're crying. Wonderful.

"Hello?" He sounds out of it, maybe you woke him up. It is pretty early for a teenager who stays up all night.

"Hey kid." You tried to sound normal, you really did. It didn't work at all though.

"Bro?" You hum in reply, breath hitching in the middle. "Are you okay?"

Well, there goes all self control you previously had. An ungodly whimper escapes you before you start grossly sobbing. He sighs sympathetically before continuing to talk.

"What's wrong? Where are you?" You can't answer, you just keep crying. Maybe calling him was a bad idea. "Okay, okay. It's okay dude. Just breathe. C'mon bro, deep breaths, in and out." You try to control the choppy uneven gasps, only succeeding slightly. Dirk can tell though.

"There you go, just keep breathing. Everything is going to be okay."

"Dirk." You gasp from between sobs

"Fuck, bro it's okay. You need to try and calm down. Are you at work?" You make a small sound of conformation.

"Are you alone?" Another sound of confirmation before you start crying harder, close to hyperventilation at this point. You don't even know why you're so upset anymore. You hear him mutter a few choice curse words.

"Holy shit dude. Alright. Just- just keep breathing, in and out, remember? Listen to me, okay? Pay attention to my voice." He sounds somewhat scared, you feel bad for making him worry.

"What do you want to talk about?" A rhetorical question probably asked as a way to collect his thoughts and fill the silence.

"I've been working on a new AI build. Putting all of the weird shit you bought me to good use. It's not even 15% done but so far it's better than anything else I've made. I'm looking forward to the final product, even if it takes years. The work will be worth it in the end." He's talking quickly, you can't quite make out all of what he's saying but you try to listen anyways.

"Roxy got a new cat, she said it was wandering around so she took it. I told her it was probably someone's pet but I don't think she cares. It's name is Whiskey, like the alcohol and whiskers at the same. I don't even know how she comes up with this shit. I gave up trying to reason with her once she started talking about her cat shipping chart." You try to put a name to a face. Isn't Roxy the one related to Rose Lalonde? You're sure she doesn't have to deal with this sort of thing, a self respecting author like Lalonde would never call her daughter crying like a little bitch.

"I'm pretty sure someone new moved in next to us, I hear them complain about the people who live below a shitton. They apparently don't like the fact the whole top floor smells like pot whenever they smoke. I find it kinda funny to be honest, who expects people NOT to do drugs when they live in this shitty place? I just hope they aren't the type of people who knock on doors when they have beef. Who knows how they'll react when I pull out the electric saw again." You remind yourself to breathe, trying to make sure you don't lapse into panic again.

"Jake broke his arm last week, which is alittle troubling because he lives out on a fucking island in the middle of nowhere. He said his grandma fixed it but still, I'm skeptical, I feel like maybe he should go to a real doctor. It's not that I don't trust or believe in grandma Jades abilities, if anyone can fix a broken arm it's her, I just think a hospital might patch him up better. But he went on a tangent about how getting a plane to his house would take weeks anyways so I once again gave up." Grandma Jade… That sounds so fucking familiar. You've never met someone named Jade though.

"I'm sure you've already seen the recall on gushers, they've apparently been killing children. The black ones are poisonous I guess, I don't really know how they went to the market if they were poisonous but who the hell knows how Betty Crocker works. It's a good thing we have a strict boycott in this household. Not like I would eat gushers in the first place, that shit is nasty." By now he's stopped talking so frantically, his tone is soft and easy to follow.

"Oh, by the way. Some weird package came for you. I honestly thought it was a bomb at first but it hasn't exploded yet. It's sitting on the dining room table surrounded by an army of orange soda cans. And before you get bitchy, yes, I will take out the trash and recycle soon."

Listening to Dirk ramble on has really helped, as the conversation went on your breaths have become more and more even. You're no longer flipping your shit, now you're just listening to him while slowly regaining your bearings. Then you hear someone knock on the door and Dirk stops talking, indicating that he heard it too. How did they even find you? You still, hoping they might leave. This doesn't happen though. The door opens and your assistant appears in the doorway. He looks rather nervous.

"Er… sorry for intruding. Amber wants to know how long you'll be gone. She wants to get breakfast but doesn't want to piss you off by leaving for too long. Then Cole told me to tell you that Rachel and Eric also want to get something to eat but are too scared to go with her. Michael offered to buy pizza but Sam said that it might be smart if we leave you alone for awhile. Uh, and Nika thought I said something that pissed you off so she tried to punch me but Shane was able to restrain her."

"Leave." You literally can't deal with this right now. You just managed to calm down and now there is an annoying lump in your throat again.

"Pardon?" His voice is filled with anxiety, fidgeting with his phone, not exactly looking at you. Maybe he knows he fucked up.

"Go away." Is he dense? You're not asking for much. All you want is to be alone, away from him in particular.

"But what should I tell everyone?" He asks awkwardly. Fuck, apparently you're going to have to do this the hard way.

"I know simple directions are hard for you but I'll put this in a way even someone with your level of ignorance can understand. If you don't leave this fucking room in less than 10 goddamn seconds I will fire you along with the entire production staff. I will scrap this whole project. I will throw millions of dollars down the shitter, put people out of jobs and let down a large population all because you didn't get a fucking clue." He stares at you, wide eyed. Without saying anything else he closes the door softly and retreats down the hall. You put the phone back to your ear now that you're alone again.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. If you want to curse out the people you work with more power to ya." That produces a small chuckle from you that you know Dirk is celebrating over. He's such a good kid.

"What's wrong man?" He asks, you can hear the genuine concern in his voice. Really, such a good kid.

"I don't know, I just got really overwhelmed again. Nothing is working, my actors suck and my assistant is an asshole who thinks this damn movie is his. Which I would find funny in any other situation, because nobody will know the idiots name even when this piece of shit comes out. All I fucking hired him for was to get me coffee and entertain the actors so I can actually get shit done for once but I guess I can't have anything go my way. He literally thinks he's the cat's meow, he's so damn cool because he's the assistant to the revolutionary director Dave motherfucking Strider. You'd think someone who graduated from a prestigious university would know their place but I'm beginning to think it's the opposite. I'm just so tired kid, so done."

"How long will the filming take?"

"I'm not sure, maybe a year? It depends on if something gets fucked up or they want me to edit the script again. Oh god, I don't even want to think about that."

"Maybe you should go home early, from what I heard all of the people you work with are trying to leave anyways. You'll be able to get more work done when you're not close to freaking out." You stay quiet, you don't think going back to the set would work out very well either.

"Yeah… okay. Thanks kid, you're a lifesaver."

"No problem. Now go to the apartment and go to bed, we both know you're sleep deprived."

You hang up and take a deep breath, wiping the tears from your face. You decide to sit for a few minutes to gain more composure and hopefully make your face less splotchy. Eventually, you stand up and walk out the door. You've formulated a plan, you just hope you don't look like the mess you are. Of course, everyone stares at you right as you walk in. This isn't uncomfortable at all.

"Everyone can go home, I'll see you tomorrow." You leave the room, completely ignoring the various questions being thrown at you. Fuck everyone.

* * *

You hang up and let out a tense breath. That was the most exhausting conversation you've had in a long time. Honestly you didn't know what was going on for awhile there, Dave woke you up when he called sobbing like everything was crumbling around him. You decided to blabber on about whatever came to mind. It worked pretty damn well honestly.

You weren't sure how much of what you said he actually heard at the beginning but once he calmed down enough you could tell he was listening to every word. By then your thoughts had slowed and you were able to think about the situation more rationally. Dave was most definitely having a panic attack and if you understood correctly he was at work. That wasn't a good mixture.

You were in the middle of talking about the package he got when you heard a faint knock from over the receiver. Putting two and two together you realized someone was knocking on the door to wherever Dave was, you silently thanked the nonexistent gods he wasn't a sobbing mess anymore. You stayed quiet while you listened to someone go on and on about how certain people wanted to do certain things but they didn't know if it was okay or not. All of it seemed rather trivial to you and judging by Dave's reactions he thought so too.

And then he started yelling. Well, yelling isn't the right word. It was basically him trying to appear forceful and not break down. It got the message through though, you heard the door close again. This time your conversation was much less one-sided. You learned that basically everyone he's working with was pissing him off, but mainly an assistant. He's far too nice to say anything, maybe you'll convince him to bring you to work so you can give them a piece of your mind.


	9. Chapter 9

reviews would be really cool  
trigger warnings- panic attack, mentions of: child abuse, sex trade, non-con elements

* * *

There is a loud knock at the door, so loud and unexpected it startled you. Once your heart rate evens you go back to the game, Dave will answer it.

"Dirk answer the door." Your brothers yells from his room.

"Why can't you? I'm alittle busy right now."

"I'm somewhat preoccupied too and if you're not drowning in old paperwork you're doing better than me."

"But I'll lose my place and then I'll have to start this whole godforsaken process again."

"I'm literally in the exact same situation. If I stand up everything I just organized will get all fucked up again. Answer the goddamn door you shit, it's probably stuff you ordered anyways."

"Ugh, fine, you owe me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll buy you a lifetime supply of sushi and orange soda. I'll give you even more money and find an even nicer car for you to go out and crash. Hell, break all of your gaming consoles while we're at it so I can buy you the ones in limited edition colors. Every single one of the colors, all of them."

Honestly you're tempted to take him up on that last offer. You really want the orange PS4 but buying it seemed like a waste. Also breaking a console sounds fun. You save your game and walk to the door, peeking into your brothers room on the way. He really is surrounded by papers and boxes, unable to move without knocking over one of the neatly stacked piles.

You open the door and are greeted by a well built man, shorter than Dave but not by much. He's wearing a white polo shirt with the collar popped, black pants, a hat and… anime shades? He reeks of alcohol, cigarettes, pot and cheap cologne. You stare at eachother for a minute before he starts talking.

"Now who might you be?" He asks jokingly, like he already knows the answer. You would have replied but you heard your brother mutter a few curse words followed by the sound of papers and boxes going everywhere. Suddenly, he is in front of you. He never flash steps outside of strifes or trying to get away from paparazzi so you honestly have no idea what's going on.

"Dirk go to your room." He sounds… scared?

"The fuck? Weren't you the one bitching about not wanting to answer the door." You want to know what's going on, you want to know why this dude looks so much like you. You want to know why Dave looks like he's close to losing it.

"Dirk." He looks right at you, straight in the eyes and you can see how dead serious he is, "Go to your fucking room and don't come out until I tell you to. Do you understand?" You nod and retreat back into your room, quietly shutting the door behind you. You lean against the wall and listen to their conversation.

"Now look at you lil' man, such a good big bro. I bet you get off on that shit, don't you?" Holy fuck, is that Bro?

"Why are you here?" You can hear the fear in his voice.

"I'm hurt, can't I come visit my cute lil' bros?" He's making fun of Dave, this is fucked up.

"I asked you not to come here." He says quietly, you've never heard Dave sound so small.

"Yeah I know, but really, did you think anything you say will stop me from doing whatever the fuck I want?" Dave stays quiet and Bro continues. "So you decided to stick with the name Dirk. How ironic, y'know Dirk and Derick sound pretty fucking similar, right lil' man? What's even funnier? He wears the exact same shades as me, has my eye color too. Are you reminded of your mean older brother whenever you see him? Is that why you abandon him for weeks on end? Kinda reminds me of someone… I wonder who?" What the hell is he talking about?

"I told you it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. We're one of a kind, two- or maybe three peas of a pod. You'll always follow in my footsteps, you are literally nothing without me. You know that right? Of course you do. If you're good at anything it's blindly following whatever I tell you to do." Everything coming out of this guys mouth is so fucked up, no wonder Dave didn't want you to be around him.

"At least you did good by the littlest Strider, I told you you'd be a good bro. I remember mom called me sayin' we had a new brother I had to take care of and well, we both know I wasn't going to do that shit. I had already wasted years of my life taking care of your ass so I figured it was your turn. I woke you up bright and early on your 15th birthday, you were so excited that I was there. I think you thought I actually got you a present or a cake or some gay shit like that. Well, I did get you a present but you weren't very happy about it. If I remember correctly you cried like a little bitch, asking me all sorts of dumbass questions. 'What's his name?', 'why do I have to take care of him?', 'where are our parents?', 'how old is he', 'why can't he crawl?'. God, you were so annoying."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dave interrupts, but you can still hear the fear in his voice.

"Hmm, maybe I'm feelin' nostalgic. Or maybe I want to tell our lil' man the shit you haven't told him yet. We both know he's listening to every word I'm sayin' so shut the fuck up and let me finish before I lose my patience. Or maybe you want a reminder of what happens when you try to stand up for yourself. It's been a long time since we've had a good ol' fashion strife."

"Now, where was I? Ah right, I honestly thought the kid would we alittle more fucked up but he looks pretty damn normal. Well, for a Strider. I mean when I gave him to you he was three and couldn't walk, talk or even fucking crawl on his own. Bet cha' had lots of help from that chick that lived below us, the one that stopped you from jumpin' off the roof like 5 times. She always was a handful to pacify, the amount of questions she asked was outrageous. I actually found it funny she didn't realize asking me all those things did more harm than good."

Wait… at three you weren't able to walk? That's not normal, babies should be able to walk well before then. So at three you hadn't hit any of your developmental stages, and now you have an IQ most people would classify as genius? Dave really is a good guardian.

"I've always wanted to ask you something though, how did you afford all the baby shit? I know I didn't give you any money and you were way too young to be hired anywhere. But when I came back a few months later the baby wasn't dead and you had baby food, diapers, the whole works. At first I thought it was that couple from downstairs but they didn't know you had the kid until he turned about four, at least that's when she really started bitching about it." He pauses, humming a bit.

"Oh shit, something just occurred to me, you must have whored yourself!" You try to pretend you didn't hear Dave take in a sharp breath, "You sold yourself, didn't you? You became a five dollar fuck! Hahaha, damn, why didn't I think of this earlier? I bet you could get someone goin' just with a look from those pretty red eyes. Not to mention you're literally the embodiment of a twink. Actually, this puts everything into perspective. You were such a good little slut for me, couldn't bring yourself to say no to anything I wanted you to do. Must have had plenty of practice before I got to you. I always wondered how you knew what to do the first time I snuck into your room and-" he pauses, chuckling lightly, "Well that's for us to know, isn't it? Can't have the lil' man know every dirty little secret now can we?" You want to throw up, this is so fucked up. Honestly you never wanted to know this, you didn't want to know any of this. It's way too personal.

"I see you deal with things the same as you use to. You sit there and take it like a fucking bitch. Turns out you're not as good at hiding your emotions though. It's even easier to see right through you. You're transparent, self-deprecating, basically just a sell out. Everyone can tell so I'm not too sure why you're even trying anymore." You hear the faint sound of a whisper but you can't make out what was said. The door closes and dead silence follows. After a few minutes you hear him say you can come out. When you open the door he's already in his room. Maybe you should leave him alone for a bit.

You go back to the video game you were playing but can't focus. All you're thinking about is what you just heard. You feel like you should talk to Dave, but you have no idea what you should say. You just heard some nasty shit and there is an overwhelming feeling that you need to talk about this.

You walk to his room and knock on the door lightly. Entering, you find him in bed, curled in on himself. The papers he was organizing earlier are once again in piles on the ground. Stepping over the documents you sit on the mattress, he still hasn't said anything but you can see he's shaking. After a few minutes of thinking you decide on what you should say.

"Just so you know, nothing he said about you is true. You haven't abandoned me, not once. Yes, you leave sometimes but you've never been gone for more than a week. You always give me money and food, you always answer your phone when I call or text. You're a really good brother, you're nothing like him."

By the time you're done talking he's started crying. You weren't really expecting him not to cry though. You put your hand on his arm causing him to flinch but you don't pull back. No matter how much he objects you know Dave needs some tlc right about now.

Standing up you close the curtains, engulfing the room in darkness. Once you lay down you attempt to hug him. It's alittle awkward with his back facing you but you get it to work. He's shaking and you can tell he's not getting enough air through the uneven breaths. Wrapping your arms around his waist you pull him closer.

You stay like that for awhile until he relaxes enough to allow you to rest your head on his shoulder. Sometime during his panic he took ahold of your hands and still hasn't let go.

"Dirk." He whispers weakly.

"Yeah?" You match his tone, talking just as softly.

"I… don't really know how you feel about me after hearing all that. But there is something you need to know."

"From the first moment I saw you I knew I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to give you everything I never had. It was plain to see you were going places and I didn't want to fuck up. I told myself I wasn't going to let you feel worthless and scared. I was going to make sure you never thought jumping off the roof or downing a bottle of pills was an honest to god option. You were going to be provided for, no matter what." You squeeze his hands lightly, hoping that's enough to prompt him to continue.

"And I tried, I tried really fucking hard." His voice cracks and honestly your heart breaks along with it. "I did whatever I could to make you happy, to give you everything you needed. But somehow, I still fucked up. I'm a shit guardian, I fell into the same behaviors as Bro and _I'm sorry_. I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I wish I knew what to do but I don't, I'm so fucking lost. I don't know what to do anymore I just- can't."

He stops talking, trailing off and laying limp in your embrace. You're holding onto him tightly, in a weird attempt to convey your feelings. You don't think saying much will help in this situation. You can't even begin to wrap your head around what Dave's feeling so you honestly have no idea what you're doing. Like all other situations you do whatever comes to mind first.

"I love you." You whisper, forehead still pressed to the back of his neck. You try to will away the tears forming in the your eyes. Now isn't the time to lose composure. He shudders slightly and you can hear his breath hitch. A few moments pass before his limp hands grab yours lightly, like if he applies too much pressure you'll break.

"I love you too." He says softly, with so much sincerity you can't stop the rogue tear that falls from the corner of your eye. All you can do is hold him and hope what you're doing is right. God knows he needs this just as much as you do.


	10. Chapter 10

wow this is literally the most fucked up thing i've created  
trigger warnings- rape yep all the way, panic attack, self harm

* * *

The door creaks open and you sit up, alarmed. You can't see in the dark but you know someone is here. Looking over at the crib made out of a shelf, a bunch of pillows and blankets you see the Dirk is still asleep. That's a relief. Then, you feel someone put their hand over your mouth, It smells like sweat and leather. You attempt to make a noise but are stopped when a harsh voice is heard right next to your ear.

"Be quiet lil' man" he breathes, and you can smell the alcohol, pot, and some sort of chemical on him. Bro is here and it only spells trouble. What you don't understand is why he's straddling you. "Wouldn't wanna wake the baby, would ya?"

He forces you down on the mattress and you try to get away. You push on his chest, try to get your legs free, anything to get him off. You don't get far because he presses himself on top of you. Your heart comes to a full stop when you feel a bulge in his pants press into your thigh. This really isn't good, you need to escape. You whimper and try to shove him off you but he just rocks into you harder.

"Behave lil' man." He grumbles, it's a demand and you know if you don't comply things could get messy. "Now I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth. If you make a fucking sound I'll hurt your precious lil' bro."

He removes his hand from your mouth and you gasp for air. Said hand only moves down, slowly skating across the side of your torso. He's sucking on your neck, grinding on top of you and pressing into your body. The hand moves lower until it comes to the top of your sweatpants. Your whole body goes numb when he slips under the waistband and starts stroking you, still marking your neck and shoulders with dark hickies.

You want this to stop. You really, really need this to stop. You want him to stop touching you because you can feel your body reacting. It makes you want to throw up. You think you might throw up. You're so busy trying to think of other things you hardly realize it when he pulls off your pants.

You start to hyperventilate the moment his lips move down. He starts licking and sucking while attempting to gain access elsewhere. He keeps trying to separate your legs, pull them apart, but you won't budge. This is already your worst nightmare, you don't think you can handle any more.

"I'm gonna get what I want one way or another lil' man." He threatens, voice uncharacteristically soft, "I would recommend you go along with this or it'll hurt a hell of a lot more. I'm trying to make this easy for you so stop struggling." He forces your legs open and immediately gets to work. He takes no time, does not use any lube, just forces one finger in. Then two, and three.

It hurts so bad, so fucking bad. You're hyperventilating, crying into your pillow while he plays with and stretches you. All you can think is, 'stop, stop, stop, please for the love of god, _stop_ '. Then, you feel what you were dreading. He stops all movement, shifts a bit and clasps a hand over your mouth. Your jaw is held together, making it virtually impossible to make a sound. After unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants he pulls them down slightly. You feel him press into you again, all but forcing the entirety of his member into you at once.

You sob in agony, honestly unable to stop yourself. This pain is worse than anything he's done before. You understand why he put his hand over your mouth, if he didn't you would have screamed. When he starts moving you can't take it anymore, you honest to god think you're about to throw up. Your head swims, your body goes limp, you all but stop thinking. His lips move from your shoulder to your chest, neck, cheek, lips. Every bite and kiss reeking of tequila, tobacco and something you can't place. He's pounding into you violently, contorting your body like a rag doll. You're bound to be covered in bruises tomorrow.

You aren't trying to struggle or make sound anymore so his hands have moved to your hips, forcing them to stay still so he can fuck you mercilessly. You want this to end, you want to die. Every time he tells you how tight you are and how good you feel nausea bubbles up your throat. He leans down and gets close to your face, hot breath lingering next to your cheek when he speaks.

"You're so fucked up lil' man. So eager to please. See, anyone else would be screaming right now but you're just laying here. Taking it. Such a good little slut." He increases the pace, folding your body for better access. A gloved hand runs across your face in some weird fucked up form of a caress, "You must like this, don't you? You've always wanted my attention and now you have it. You have my full, undivided attention. Isn't this what you want? You're doing so well too, I wonder why I didn't think of this earlier. So good lil' man."

He increases the pace one last time until he rams into you and comes. He places a simple, sweet kiss to your lips that might have been nice in another situation but now it just makes you feel dirty, dirtier than you already are. A few seconds pass before he pulls out, pulls up his pants and stands. After accidentally running into the makeshift cradle on the ground you hear him leave the apartment, all but slamming the door behind him.

Dirk starts crying and you throw up. Right on the bed. You're bleeding, sobbing and shaking all over. When you try to move you end up almost blacking out. Dirk just keeps crying but you literally can't get up. Still, you try to shift until he's close and collect him into your arms. You hum, shudder and sob, trying to console the baby while having a breakdown of your own.

Dirk starts to drift off again, you hold him as you try to control your breathing. You can't feel much expect pain. Your body hurts, your mind is in shambles, you're an honest to god mess. Your whole being tenses suddenly and full out heart wrenching cries fill the space. Carefully, you place Dirk back in the crib and try to calm down.

You pull your knees to your chest, blood still dripping down your legs and onto the bed. Hugging yourself tightly you try to count, to breathe, to do anything. All you want is to escape whatever thoughts and feeling are overwhelming you now. But you keep thinking about his lips on your neck, his hand running down your stomach. How he took your body and used it for his own pleasure. How that's the most attention he's ever given you. How he fucking _smirked_ as he came.

Your nails are digging into your upper arms when a soft knock is heard at the door. You still slightly. Panicking, but trying to do so much more quietly. When the front door opens you press up against the wall, another bout of nausea filling your gut. Just as the woman from the apartment downstairs walks into your room you throw up again.

She gasps when she sees you, eyes lingering on the stains of blood, cum and vomit covering both the bed and you. Slowly, she lowers herself to her knees and tries to get closer to you. With her movement you flinch, hand gripping blonde hair.

"Sweetheart it's okay." You just sob, hiding your face in your arms. "It's okay. Darling listen to me, you're going to be okay."

She picks up Dirk, who has woken up again, and tries to get him back to sleep while she comforts you.

"Let's go down to my apartment. You can take a shower while I watch Dirk." You nod, really wanting to leave this room. "Do you need a minute?" You nod again, "I'll be in the living room."

You sit on the bed and shake. Just shaking and crying. Eventually you stand on unsteady legs and grab a shirt from the floor. After putting that on you grab clean pants and stumble into the living room. She's standing in the kitchen with Dirk on her hip.

"Are you ready?" She asks softly. You nod, words don't seem to be coming easily. You follow her down the stairs and into the apartment. Once inside she sets Dirk down and he goes straight for a sleeping kitten.

"Go take a shower dear, I'm going to leave Dirk with Charles while I clean your room." You stare at the ground and can't help but feel embarrassed. She's going to wash your bloody, vomit soiled bedsheets out of the kindness of her own heart. You let out another broken sob and she sighs sadly.

"It's okay, I don't mind. Just take a shower, it'll make you feel better. Don't worry about a thing." You nod again and limp to the bathroom. As the shower turns on you hear a hushed conversation.

"Hey, what's going on?" Charles asks sleepily.

"I'll tell you later." Nina whispers, "I need to go do something, can you watch Dirk for a few minutes?"

"Yeah."

You get in the shower and just stand there. Warm water runs across you, washing the various bodily fluids from your skin. Minutes pass and you eventually sink to your knees and begin to cry again. You cry and cry, ears ringing and gasping for air. As you curl in on yourself you hear Dirk in the other room.

"Bo?" He asks innocently and you snort. At least he has no idea what just happened. You're so glad he didn't wake up. So grateful.

"He's in the bathroom." Charles says "He'll be back soon."

"Crying?" Dirk mumbles and you smile through the sobbing. He's such a good kid.

"I don't know why." You hear a cat meow and Dirk laughs. "Don't pull on the cat's tail Dirk." Charles scolds lightly.

"Sorry." Dirk answers sadly. You decide you should probably get out of the shower soon. Standing you take the soap and start to wash yourself, your whole body aches as you wash away the remainder of the blood. You turn off the water and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel.

Soon you're dry and dressed, she was right, you do feel alittle better. Opening the door you walk into the living room. When you enter you see Charles staring at the new still forming bruises covering your neck and arms. The moment Dirk sees you he runs up and hugs your legs.

"Hey buddy," you say, voice low and gravely from strain. You kneel and pull him into your lap. He wraps his little arms around you and squeezes with all of his 3 year old might. You let out a shattered breath and hold him close. Neither of you making any effort to move.

"Sad?" Dirk says quizzically. He's still not very good at articulation, but he's getting better. You constantly trying to get him to talk helps. Still, he only says one word at a time, not forming complete sentences.

"Naw." You run a hand through his hair and he giggles, hugging alittle more. Minutes pass and Dirk eventually grows limp in your arms. "You tired?" You whisper and he nods against you. You're in the middle of the living room, Dirk tucked into your lap while you try to ignore the pain caused by sitting.

His small quiet breaths have evened out, him falling into a light sleep. You try to focus on the feeling of his warm body clinging to you and not on the events of the last few hours. You're staring at the ground when the front door opens. Looking up Nina walks in and smiles.

"Your room is almost clean, the sheets are in the dryer. Feel free to sleep here if you want."

"Thank you."

"It's not a problem. Go sleep in the bedroom, we'll be out here if you need anything."

You stand up with Dirk still in your arms and go into the other room. The bedroom is dark and calm. Everything feels soft and smells like vanilla and lavender. You lower yourself on to the bed and lay with Dirk curled into you. You pull the purple comforter over the both of you and try to calm your racing mind. In the last moment of consciousness you hear Nina whisper in the other room.

"Bro raped Dave."

* * *

"Dirk I don't think I can do this anymore." You choke out between sobs, "I honestly don't."

"What… Do you mean?" Dirk asks carefully, it's obvious he knows the answer already. If he already knows why ask? When you don't reply he tries again, "what can't you do?"

You grip your hair harshly, suddenly glad he can't see you in such a state. Why did you call him in the first place? You can't quite remember. Because of the dream? That sounds right. You stare at the blade on the table next to you. Your arm is already bleeding, not very bad though. These wounds are superficial compared to the others.

"I don't know." You say through gritted teeth, "I just can't!"

"Why did he have to come back?" You literally sob, could you get any more pathetic? "I thought I could finally move on and then he shows up out of the blue. I hate him. I hate him so fucking much. He won't leave me alone! There's so much I want to forget but the mere thought of him makes it all bubble to the surface. I know he knows, how could he not? He knows every single fucking thing about me."

"He's not going to come back." Dirk says firmly, still knowing this probably isn't the truth. You're filled with so many conflicting emotions and feelings. So many you just want to cut it all off and go numb. So that's what you do, stop feeling, or at least attempt to.

"Right, right. You're right. Thank you. I'm going to sleep, goodnight Dirk." You hang up just as you hear him frantically tell you to wait. Staring out the window for a moment you pick up the blade and hold it in your shaking hand. ' _This will help'_ , you tell yourself, ' _it always helps._ '

With a quick motion you run the blade across your arm, cutting over the already bleeding wounds. You do this a few more times until most of the overwhelming thoughts have subsided. These injuries are much worse than what you did earlier, already bleeding heavily. You press a black towel to your arm and wait for the bleeding to stop. Above the buzzing in your head you hear the text tone of your phone.

Using your good arm you check the message. It's Dirk and he seems rather distraught.

 _TT: Bro what the hell?  
_ _TT: Text me back asshole. Why did you suddenly hang up? Did I say something wrong?  
_ _TG: no no youre fine  
_ _TG: i just realized i was being a little bitch for no good reason  
_ _TG: didnt want to make you deal with any more of my emotional faults  
_ _TT: Your fears are completely justified. Anybody would be freaked out by their brother if they went through what you did.  
_ _TT: You're not being a "little bitch", you're upset and that's alright.  
_ _TT: There's nothing wrong with reaching out for help.  
_ _TG: fuck  
_ _TG: kid  
_ _TG: i know that  
_ _TG: im fine now so dont worry  
_ _TT: I'm sorry but it's nearly impossible to go from hysterically sobbing to fine in the course of 10 minutes.  
_ _TG: well thats what just happened  
_ _TG: i make the impossible possible  
_ _TT: Stop ignoring the topic at hand!  
_ _TG: theres nothing to discuss  
_ _TG: im fine  
_ _TG: goodnight dirk_

Somewhere in Texas a young strider murmurs a single word under his breath, "liar."


	11. Chapter 11

thanks for the reviews they keep me going tbfh

* * *

"Hey, kid." Dave says nervously when you pick up the phone. You hope he's not freaking out again.

"Sup bro." You keep your voice monotone until you can thoroughly assess the situation.

"Would you be pissed at me if we moved?" He mutters apprehensively. Your eyebrows tilt up in confusion.

"Where?" You weren't expecting this when he called you. To be honest you're relieved.

"California. Just until the movie is done." He says quickly, "we can move back after if you want."

"Why now? All the times I suggested moving before you objected." You really do want to move but you're more curious about the change of heart.

"It would just be more convenient. I'd get to see you alot more and escape the horrible plane rides." He pauses before continuing in a lower voice. "And I'm a little nervous about Bro showing up again." Ah, so that's the real reason. Something inside you twists with sympathy.

"I'm totally down for us moving." You say and a relieved sigh is heard over the line. "Just say the word and I'll start packing."

"Thank you kid" Dave says sincerely, "he makes me very uneasy."

"I know, and I understand." You assume 'he' means Bro. "Aren't you at work? You could have called me later."

"Yeah I am. But I keep thinking about what might happen if he shows up when I'm not there and-" he stops himself, taking a breath. "I don't know. I just really, really want to make sure nothing bad happens."

The anxiety in his voice is obvious and you want to tell him he's being paranoid. But you can't, because after all you heard he might do that. It doesn't sound out of character. Bro seems like the type of person who would do exactly what he's suggesting.

"Even if he does come I'll go down the fire escape and drive to a hotel." You try to reassure him, partly because he's starting to sound panicked, but also because you're feeling quite nervous yourself.

"That's good. It's just- the thing is, he knows the apartment inside and out. He'd know that's exactly where you're going and-" he stops himself again, letting out a shaky sigh. You have a feeling he's speaking from past experience.

"Sorry, you really don't need to hear any of this. It'll just freak you out." It honestly is freaking you out a bit. Suddenly moving sounds like an even better idea. Still, you put on a brave face. He's probably much more upset than you.

"Don't worry." You say softly and he lets out a humorless laugh. "I'll be fine, we can move as soon as you want. I don't have any real friends at school so it's cool. It'll be nice to get outta this dump."

"Thanks Dirk, I really appreciate this. Start packing as soon as possible. I'll be home in a day or two."

"No problem. Have a good time at work." He scoffs and murmurs goodbye before hanging up.

Now you're just a wee bit nervous. You glance at the door, highly tempted to put a chair in front of it. You stand up and do just that. Everything Dave said is starting to get to you. To distract yourself you turn on the TV and start packing.

First, you go into dave's room. You step around the papers before finding some unfolded file boxes. You put them together, reinforcing them with packaging tape. You decide to do the easy stuff first, get it out of the way.

You go to the living room to stuff as many smuppets as you can into one box. You have to tape down the lid but surprisingly you fit them all in a single container. You write smuppets on the top with black marker, drawing a few on the box for good measure.

Next, you organize the pile of movies next to the tv. Once all the disks are in their respective containers you put them into a box, counting each one as you stack it. The movies alone take a box and a half. You decide to put your video games into the half filled box and label those accordingly.

Collecting all of the various papers from around the room you put them in a pile for Dave to go through. This leaves random pieces of junk scattered about. Deciding to deal with the weapons later you throw the miscellaneous shit into a box haphazardly.

Dave will probably want to do the plates and silverware himself so you leave the kitchen alone. Looking outside you realize the sun has set. How long have you been packing? You stack the full boxes against a wall and decide to work on your room next. Pulling the newspaper you use to catch oil out of the closet you start wrapping the various tools and bits of technology.

All of the wrenches and hammers go into one box along with the electric saw, torch, and other useful tools. Once that's done you wrap the motherboards and circuitry that are used in the robots. You're much more careful doing this, making sure the delicate wires aren't destroyed. You add extra padding to that box and tape them closed. On the top of these you write, 'mechanical shit' and under it, 'heavy and fragile. be careful."

You're left staring at the hunk of metal sitting in the corner of the room. How the hell are you supposed to move this? It's your current project and far too heavy to lift in its hardly built shape. You haven't had time to lighten it up by switching out metal. Speaking of metal, you dump all of the sheets, scraps and wires into a box, adding padding before stacking the laptops filled with code on top. You write the same message as before.

Realizing you're out of boxes you stop the frantic packing to text Dave.

TT: _Before you come home could you buy more boxes and those weird tube things used to store posters? Newspaper or something along those lines would be nice aswell.  
_ TG: _sure thing  
_ TG: _go to bed btw  
_ TG: _dont you have school in the morning_

You look at the time, seeing it's well past midnight. Stretching, you decide that's enough for today and change before going to bed, not moving the chair from the door.

* * *

You're woken up by your ringing alarm clock. Feeling around the bed you eventually locate the phone and shut off the alarm. Staring at the ceiling you can't help but ask why you were going to school if you were moving in a few days. Rolling over you close your eyes, deciding school can wait. You're about asleep when your phone vibrates. You ignore it but it buzzes again, and again, and again, over and over. Groaning you look at the screen.

TG: _wakey wakey eggs and bakey  
_ TG: _i have an overwhelming suspicion that youre laying in bed and not getting ready for school  
_ TG: _how did i raise such a delinquent  
_ TG: _youre making me cry dirk  
_ TT: _I don't see why I should go to school when we're moving soon.  
_ TG: _so you are laying in bed  
_ TG: _jesus christ  
_ TG: _go to school kid  
_ TG: _do it for me  
_ TT: _It's a waste of time. Any work I do won't really matter once we move so what's the point?  
_ TG: _okay  
_ TG: _you know what  
_ TG: _do whatever you want  
_ TG: _im coming back today to pack and arrange things with the movers and landlord  
_ TG: _i found a pretty nice apartment it has two bedrooms and two bathrooms with a fancy porch  
_ TT: _That sounds good, I'll see you soon._

You stand up and move the chair blocking the front door back to the table. Maybe you were being a tad bit paranoid last night. Kinda got caught up in the sea of emotions. Yawning you stumble back into your room and collapse onto the bed, falling asleep shortly after.

You're not sure why waking up to your brother softly petting your hair is a thing but it happens more often than not. You stretch and let out a happy little hum. He chuckles and you hear him thank you for packing before kissing the top of your head. He leaves the room and you pass out again.

When you finally wake up it's three in the afternoon. The first thing you notice is that it smells good, really fucking good. You're pretty sure bro bought a pizza. You slowly get out of bed, looking around for a sweatshirt to put on. You walk out to the living room lazily with stiff motions.

"Good afternoon," he says and you have to look around in order to find him. He's on the ground, packing the pile of books. Nothing previously in the living room is there anymore, it's all replaced by moving boxes. All of your posters have been taken down, exposing an uncharacteristic stark white underneath.

"Morning," you mumble "When did you get back?" The kitchen is half packed and that's when you notice the food on the table. You grab a paper towel and look over the pizza before taking one of the slices. Sitting down on the futon you turn on the tv.

"About ten or so," He answers and grabs a few cookbooks from a shelf. He put them with the rest of the books and moves his attention to the kitchen. He starts by wrapping the cups, plates and bowls. The silverwear and knives go into separate ziplock bags followed by random things like measuring cups, a cheese grater and spatulas.

You grab another piece of pizza while he goes through the drawers, folding the washcloths and rags he finds. Pots and pans go into one box, spices and supplies like flour and baking soda in another.

"Aren't you going to yell at me for skipping school?" You ask, mouth half full.

"Don't talk while you're chewing." He says instead of answering your question. You don't know what you expected, he hardly ever scolds you. The few times he has it's because you were doing something stupidly dangerous. Like playing with chemicals in the house or seeing how many devices one outlet can hold before it catches on fire.

"It's fine," he says after awhile. You don't know what he's talking about until he continues. "You were right, going to school would have been a waste of time. And you packed so much last night I'm finding it difficult to be mad at you." You thank your short bout of mania for allowing you to skip school successfully.

"The movers are coming at nine in the morning tomorrow." You groan at the unreasonably early time. "I know that's hella early for you but if I do it any later people might catch onto who I am and damn, that would suck."

"Ughhhh. Fine. What are we doing after that?" The apartment will be empty so you're not exactly sure what he has planned.

"We could either go to California straight away and chill in a hotel until our shits in check." he stops mid thought, scrambling back when a decently sized bug flies out of the drawer. He swats it away, clearing his throat to reorganize his mind. "Or we could get a hotel down here and stay for a day or two."

"Let's just leave tomorrow. I can sleep in your fancy jet." You don't really want to stay in Texas, you're excited about the change of scenery.

"That you can. It has squishy seats too." He seems happy about the answer.

"Why aren't we staying in your apartment?" You didn't connect the dots until now. If he has the apartment why stay in a hotel?

"Stopped renting it." He says simply. Well, that makes sense.

"What did you do with the furniture?" You recall a fully furnished apartment last time you visited.

"I put some of it in my office, some of it is in storage, but I donated most of it." He says, pulling cleaning supplies out from under the sink.

"You… Donated it?" You respond skeptically.

"Is that a problem?" He looks at you blankly, tilting his head.

"No it's just, wasn't most of that furniture hella expensive?" It honestly looked brand new.

"I guess, but donating is better than just throwing it away. None of the people I work with wanted it so I didn't know what else to do." He's still staring at you, it's kinda weird.

"Did you get rid of your huge bed?" You decide to change the topic slightly.

"No, of course not. I would never." He closes his eyes to smile lightly.

"What about your bed here?" Why do you keep asking all these weird questions?

"I'm probably going to find someone to take it to the dump. I've had it for way too long, doesn't even deserve a new home. Gotta put it out of its mystery by covering it in humanities shit." He sounds bitter, you wonder why.

"Get the movers to do it." You suggest hopefully.

"I don't think that's in their job description." He laughs almost awkwardly.

"Honestly I think it might be, but if you give them a nice tip i'm pretty sure they'll do it." You comment.

"True," he says standing from his sitting position the tile. "I'm going to organize piles of papers, my absolute favorite activity. Put the pizza in the fridge when you're done." Walking past you he goes into his room, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the pizza for a few seconds, finally realizing he hadn't eaten any of it. Maybe he was going to eat later? Somehow you highly doubt that. Fishing a ziplock bag out if one of the boxes you put the leftovers away.

You grab a few of the remaining boxes before going to your room. You take down the posters and pack all the manga, anime and other random nerdy things lying about. After your clothes are put away you throw together a suitcase for the next few days of living at a hotel. You secretly hope it's a fancy high class place. You have a feeling it might be.

Now comes the hard part, disassembling your main computer and unhooking your gaming consoles from the tv. The consoles come first mostly because it's easier to see the wires connected to the devices. It takes some time to untangle but eventually everything gets nicely wound up and organized.

Prying your computer apart is going to take much longer. There's more than one monitor and even more towers. Everything is hooked together by tangled wads of cords that you know are going to take some work to get apart. The fans and sound system surrounding everything just adds to the obstacles. You sit down and begin the tedious process.


	12. Chapter 12

It's November and you've been working your ass off. You have a few weeks to build up some money for dirks 7th birthday. Between taking care of both of you and paying for basic necessities you're getting rather tired. You've given up trying to get a real job, everywhere says they won't hire someone like you. Because of this you decided to rely on selling yourself for an income. This isn't helping the exhaustion one bit.

Ever since bro decided taking advantage of you was his new hobby any sexual situation makes you go numb. Your mind panics but it doesn't show, you're stoic and unreadable. It's the only time you can actually maintain the passive strider demeanor. The thought makes you laugh. Despite all of this you figure stripping and giving sexual favors to cringy old men isn't nearly as bad as bro having his way with you. Anything is better than that. It gives you cash so that's all that matters.

You've saved up a good amount of money for presents. You wanted to have more by now but random things keep popping up. First it was a water bill 3x higher than normal (you don't even know how it happened), then the bread started growing mold, the milk expired, apparently you don't have any laundry detergent or dish soap and now Dirk has a cold. The poor kid is so sick he can hardly move. With a fever of 99.7 you're starting to get rather concerned. But taking him to a doctor is out of the question. You've never been to the doctor yourself so you wouldn't know what to say. Don't you need an insurance card or something like that?

His shivering body is curled to your chest as he attempts to sleep. Every now and then he sniffs or sneezes followed by a low, annoyed groan. The cough drops you found are kinda helping but he's still miserable. You're starting to doze off when you're startled by Dirk lapsing into a random coughing fit. You sit up slightly and rub his back, trying anything to make him feel alittle better. By the time he stopped coughing he's leaning on you limply. He whines as a shiver runs through his body so you lay down again, pulling the blanket around the both of you.

Minutes pass and Dirk becomes more and more calm until you're certain he's asleep. Letting out a tense breath you stare at the cracks and water stains on the ceiling. Honestly you have no idea what you're doing, bro never took care of you when you were sick. So far you're going off of what you've seen on tv and what you've read in books. You googled what to do but your computer died before you could actually figure something out. Your sub-par care is not cutting it. You're not prepared for this type of situation at all.

You're starting to think you need to buy him some actual medication. And things that help sick children, you just have no idea what helps. Make him soup or something? Maybe you could ask the pharmacist at the store. Once Dirk wakes up you're going to leave. There's a feeling you're going to have to hold him the entire time, he's too weak to stand. You start petting his light ash blonde hair. His body is still shivering even in sleep, causing the rest to be fitful and uneasy.

A few hours pass until you hear Dirk croak, "bro," before sneezing a few times. He coughs, gripping the fabric of your shirt.

"How're ya doing?" You ask, knowing the answer already.

"Real bad." He replies gruffly, voice laced with both anger and mucus. Even through the sickness you can tell he's picking up your accent. You should probably try to fix that.

"Sorry kid," you have to tell him you're going to the store. He's not going to be very happy but it's necessary. You can't afford to let him get any worse than he already is. "We gotta go out."

"No."

"I know you don't wanna but we need to get you things to make you feel better. You can just sleep, I'll carry you."

"No."

"Well, tough shit because you don't exactly have a choice." You sit up and climb out of the bed. He looks rather mad. You shuffle around until you find one of his sweaters and jacket. You hand them the clothes and tell him to put them on. This request is followed by another firm no.

"You can say no all day but it won't change anything. Get ready or I'll do it for you." He pouts, slowly putting on the sweater and jacket. You put on a light sweatshirt before looking through your wallet. You have $41, wonderful. Grabbing your and dirks shades you put them on the both of you before finding a blanket to drape over him while you're out. You kneel down as he sneezes a few times. After shoving tissues in his and your pockets you pat his face.

"Put on the blanket and hop on my back." He wraps the thin quilt around himself and climbs onto you. After securing him he hangs on you weakly, arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders and his head rests on your neck. His skin is clammy, breath hot as it brushes against your hair. You stand to make your way out of the apartment and down the stairs. On the street you walk down to the nearby bus stop. It's late afternoon so the sun is setting, the sky red and gold with streetlights turning on here and there. You're standing next to the route sign when Dirk sneezes into your hair 3 times. Gross. After that he coughs for awhile before growing quiet.

A few people drift over and stand next to you, waiting for the bus aswell. Dirk shivers and you hear a soft whine from the back of his throat before sniffing. The girl next to you is staring, you can feel her eyes on you, judging probably. God, you hate when people just watch you. It's so unsettling and happens way too often. Ignoring her you try to fish the wallet out of your pocket. Once it's free you hand it to Dirk.

"Can you take out 2 dollars and 3 of the big coins?" He fumbles around until he gets the correct amount of money. Once you're sure it's enough you thank him and take the wallet back. "Hold onto that until the bus comes."

A few more minutes pass until a run down bus rattles up. You let the other people get on first, you following close behind. After getting Dirk to deliver the bus fare you go to a secluded seat and have him sit in your lap, hugging your chest. The bus merges into traffic, starting the long journey to the store. You live in a shitty part of town, far away from any actual businesses. Dirk wheezes slightly and coughs occasionally. Every time he has a sneezing fit the surrounding people stare at you.

"Hurts alot," he about sobs, but his dry throat makes his voice crack and stay painfully quiet. He's visibly shaking so you tighten your hold and pull the blanket around him further.

"I know buddy, I know." You whisper into his hair as he cries silently, "we'll be there soon, you're alright. The stuff we'll buy is gonna make you feel better. I promise everything will be okay." He hacks, the sound echoing through the bus. A few people are starting to look rather concerned. He's really sick, isn't he? "Go to sleep, I'll carry you. Don't worry about anything. I have you."

Time slowly passes until you're in the central part of town. The bus stops outside of a grocery store so you collect Dirk in your arms, not making him move in the slightest. Once you exit you sprint to the nearby building, trying to be quick so Dirk doesn't get cold. You hurry into the store and snatch a nearby cart on the way. Carefully you set him in the bin, taking off your sweatshirt and giving it to him to use as a pillow. He sniffs and tries to relax, covering his eyes with his arm. You set off to find the medication aisle.

Once you find the correct location you find yourself confused and distraught. You have no idea what to buy. You need to figure this shit out, Dirk needs you. Apparently forgetting all about your social anxiety you walk up to the connected pharmacy and flag down the man working. After a few minutes he comes up to you and says he's sorry about the wait.

"Hey uh, could you help me?" You ask meekly as you watch him take in your odd demeanor and disheveled appearance.

"What do you need?" He says happily, plastering on a bright customer service smile.

"My little brother is real sick and I dunno what to buy." You sound unsure, slightly scared. He picks up on it.

"What are his symptoms?" He inquires while walking away from the counter and over to you.

"He keeps coughing and sneezing, says his throat and head hurt real bad and he's got a fever of like 99 degrees." You list off things quickly and randomly, hoping you actually know the meaning of the word 'symptom'. God, you wish you were smarter.

"Is this him?" You nod, jumping when he moves to feel dirks forehead. Noticing the motion he steps back. "Where are your parents?

"They're on vacation." You lie, you're getting pretty good at making up excuses. So incredibly good at fabricating the truth it's almost impressive. Of course he accepts your bullshit instantly.

"I would recommend these," he points to two bottles of liquid medication. "One of them is a pain relief and one is cold medicine. Usually the cold medicine would have some sort of pain relief already included but that one is sold out. These should help the cough, bring down the fever and stop some of his discomfort. If you want you could also get him cough drops or maybe some vapor rub." He explains and you just stare. There is no way you can afford all that. You'll see how much the first two things are and go from there.

"Uh, yeah okay. Thanks man." He nods and walks back to the counter. You look at the prices, one is $5 and the other $7. You grab those and put them next to dirks slightly-unconscious body. Next you find the soup aisle, grabbing a few cans of various soups. If your math is right everything together is about $23, leaving enough for later.

Once you're at the registers you grab an orange soda to bribe Dirk. You know he's not going to drink medication without a fight. After paying for the things you make Dirk sit up. He looks so bad, hair sticking to sweaty pale skin. You open the bottles, him eyeing you the whole time. That is until he starts sneezing repeatedly.

"You gotta drink this kid." He gives you a face that plainly reads as a huge 'fuck that'. You were expecting as much.

"No."

"Please? It'll make you feel better." You have to get him to take it, you have to get him better before this gets out of control. Not that this situation is controlled at all. It's not.

"No."

"Dirk come on, don't you wanna get better? I'll give you the orange soda to wash it down." Bribery, you remember reading something about a reward system on a parenting wikihow.

"You promise it'll help?" He asks apprehensively, a frown painted on his face. He coughs a few times before wiping his nose on his sleeve. Apparently not bothering with the tissues in his pockets.

"Yes, yes. 100% yes. I promise with every fiber of my being." You are latching onto this opportunity. It's now or never.

"Ok…" me mutters and takes the little cup from you. You open the soda and wait for him to drink it. Once he downs the purple liquid he cringes before quickly drinking the orange soda.

"Good job kid, one more." You pour the pain reliever next, noting this one is bubblegum flavored.

"No."

"Come on." You knew he wouldn't want to do it again.

"Hell no."

"Don't get smart now. We're gonna sit here till you drink it." Whenever he curses you feel kinda guilty, he's too young to be spouting out 'shit' and 'fuck' left and right. He deflates so you hand him the next cup. This time he downs it quickly, chugging the soda after.

"Thanks kid, you're doing real good." You put all the bottles and the soda back into the bag and lift him out of the cart. You hand the bag to him and he climbs back onto your back. Exiting the store you walk back to the bus stop. The sky is dark, air cold and still with sound of traffic and crickets surrounding you. Once the bus rolls up you show your previous ticket to the driver and sit with Dirk in your lap. You just hope you can figure out what to do.


	13. Chapter 13

You wake up to birds chirping outside of your window at 6 AM. The hustle of traffic is interrupted by a train whistle and someone sneezes in the apartment next door. It takes a minute to realize you're not in California, you're in Texas. You shrug off the covers but the room is still stupidly hot. Today is going to be one of the days you wish you could just roll up your sleeves and take off your sweater. That's what you do, you take off your shirt for a bit, allowing the air to run over your scarred arms. It feels so nice.

Standing, you put on your shirt again to turn up the AC. The bathroom is still a mess, you forgot to clean it last night. There are dirty towels everywhere, half of them stained with oil. You're pretty sure Dirk cut his hair over the sink and decided to shove it down the drain. You think it would be best to clean up before you shower. The grime is starting to gross you out.

Soon the bathroom is squeaky clean so you finally get around to showering. The shower head is too short causing you to have to lean down to get under the water. You end up using dirks fancy shampoo and conditioner, you're apparently fresh out of yours. It leaves your hair soft and silky, honestly you quite like it. You keep running a hand through your hair, marveling at how easily it moves through your fingers. You wonder if Dirk's hair is this soft before he puts product in it.

When you finally exit the bathroom it's nearing 8. With everything packed the apartment looks sparse, run down. You can see the years worth of damage to the carpet, walls, even on the ceiling. It's honestly a piece of shit hidden away in the worst part of town. You can't help but wonder why you insisted on keeping this place for so long. There was just a part of you that felt weird moving away from it. But now it seems almost liberating. Like you're freeing yourself from one more memory of Bro.

You throw the food from the fridge and freezer away except for the pizza from yesterday and some soda. Cleaning the appliance with bleach is something you'll leave to the next occupants. Slowly you gather the rest of the trash from around the apartment, even quietly going through dirks room while he's asleep. You throw out the garbage and wander onto the roof. You don't usually come up here, it brings up too many bad memories.

Sitting against the wall you look over the city. This view is so familiar, so nostalgic, it makes you want to throw up. You look at the ledge, the same ledge you tried to jump off countless times in your youth. There's still a red stain from when the couple from downstairs tackled you in order to make you stop. Your whole arm got road burn that day. You tear your eyes from the ledge and stand, not wanting to be up here anymore. You walk back to the apartment quickly.

It's about time to wake up Dirk, he's not going to be very happy with you. You walk into his room and open the blinds. Next you kneel next to him and try to shake him out of sleep. He doesn't seem to be moving. You change tactics and poke his sides. He twitches with each poke, obviously getting pissed.

"Bro stop."

"Not until you get up. Go sleep on the futon while I strip your bed."

He groans and stumbles out to the living room, leaving his shades on the side table. You hear him collapse into the futon, most likely instantly falling asleep. Taking all the sheets off his bed you pack them in the final box. With your combined efforts you packed the entire junk ridden apartment in two days. You wander to the living room with his shades in hand and sit on the ground next to the futon. The movers should be here soon.

Ten minutes later there is a knock on the door. Dirk rolls over so you place the shades somewhere he can see them and stand up. Opening the door you're met with two young men in grey uniforms.

"Hello Mr…" The older looking man trails off, looking at the paper in his hand. "Strider?" He says, slightly unsure. You nod. "Wonderful. We are from the moving service you hired! I'm Ben and this is Fred, we'll be helping you today. Should we get started?" They ask happily and you nod again.

"We basically need all of this except for the bed in the room to your left. I'll give you money to get rid of it by the way."

"We can take care of all that for you sir! Leave everything to us."

"Yeah, okay."

You watch them go back and forth, carrying boxes full of useless shit out of the apartment and to the truck. Dirk is either in a very deep sleep or ignoring everything that's going on around him. It must suck carrying boxes full of metal. Eventually the living room is cleared of furniture and boxes, then your room followed by Dirks. You're leaning against the futon when one of the movers comes up to you.

"What should we do with the metal box in the bedroom?"

Metal box? It takes you a few moments to realize what they mean. It's probably the unbuilt robot. You tell them to wait and walk over to the other side of the futon.

"Kid what do you want the movers to do with the robot?"

"Uh…" He sits up and you place anime shades on his face. When he opens his eyes he looks at the two movers. "Have you touched it yet?"

"No." They say in unison.

"Ok, uh. I'll watch you guys." The three of them walk into his room. "The bottom pieces are already welded together but you'll have to keep the top on yourself." They carefully grab it, Dirk watching intently while holding his breath. As they make their way downstairs Dirk follows them anxiously. Once that's moved in one piece they take the last of the furniture, even throwing the bed away for you. You tip them each $50 when the job is done, they thank you before going on their way. You're left sitting on the floor of an empty apartment.

"Eat some of the pizza from yesterday. We're going to California in an hour or so." You tell Dirk. He grabs the pizza and puts a slice on a paper towel. After heating it up he walks over hands it to you. You look up, quite confused. "Aren't you going to eat this?"

"No," he says simply, "I'm making my own right now but you need to eat too. I haven't seen you touch food since you arrived yesterday."

"Right, thank you." He grunts and goes back to the kitchen. It's just then you realize how hungry you actually are. Sometimes you forget to eat for days, it's a very bad habit. The microwave dings and he plops down next to you. You stay silent, opting to listen to the sounds caused by neighbors conversations. Once you finish the pizza you stand up.

"I'm going to talk to the landlord for a sec. I'm having our cars shipped over, could you drive yours to the service building? You just have to follow me."

"Yeah," he says, stretching while sighing. You walk out of the apartment and talk to the landlord one last time. He says something about being impressed you made it big. You talk about the past for awhile, him recalling several scenes from your childhood. After some time conversation stalls so you say a last goodbye, him even getting emotional and teary eyed near the end. Once everything is finalized you go back upstairs. When you enter Dirk is laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. You grab his keys and suitcase, dropping the keys on his chest.

"I've got your bags, are you ready to go? You're not exactly dressed." He's wearing sweatpants and a rainbow dash shirt.

"It's now or never," he says, sitting and eventually standing up. With your bags in hand you walk out of the apartment. As the door closes you can't help but feel this is some sort of accomplishment. Together you walk downstairs to your respective cars.

"Just follow me to the building. Put the address in your phone in case we get separated." He inputs the address into google maps and once you're in your own car you're on your way. You make it to the shipping service easily and get everything situated there. Next, you hail a taxi and start the drive to the airport.

You don't go to the main airport, you go to another airfield that houses your private jet. It's much faster and easier to get onto this plane. You don't have to deal with all the people around you, or airport security not so subtly feeling you up. You get to the plane quickly and wait for the trip to start.

Dirk is already fast asleep, snoring lightly in one of the reclined leather seats. You drape a blanket over him and smooth bangs out of his face, he looks so peaceful. So cute in his my little pony shirt. Once the plane is in the air you turn your attention to the books you have stashed about. You grab a random one and start reading. You've read this particular novel more times than you're willing to admit. It provides an adequate distraction though. It's much easier to keep your cool when people aren't yelling all around you.

About an hour into the flight you pour some bourbon into a glass and turn on the tv. You decide to watch the collection of Star Wars movies while you wait for the trip to end. By the time the first movie is over it's about time to land. You've drank two or three glasses of alcohol and are starting to feel somewhat intoxicated. Nothing you can't handle though. The captain signals that they're landing soon so you wake up Dirk for the third time today. You walk over and pat his face a few times. He swats your hands away mumbling something that sounds rather angry.

"Kiddo, wake up and put on your seatbelt. We're landing soon." Letting out an annoyed huff Dirk sits up and puts on his seatbelt just as the indicator light telling them to do so turns on. After the descent that makes your alcohol filled stomach flip you grab the baggage and leave. As soon as you enter the airport you're greeted by hot. Overwhelming heat that's already making you sweat under the grey sweater. You groan, obviously displeased by the temperature change.

"Shit. It's hot as balls." Dirk comments, fanning himself as you walk through the building. "Aren't you really uncomfortable in that sweater?"

Your heart skips a beat. You hate questions like this, it puts you in the spotlight, it makes you have to think of legitimate excuses. You honestly can't think of anything so you answer with a simple, "naw." Dirk watches you skeptically. You can see the gears turning in his head, drawing silent conclusions. You leave the airport and find it's even hotter outside. It seems the world is out to get you. You're starting to think you might pass out. Flagging down the nearest taxi you give them the name of the hotel you'll be staying at.

Dirk rolls down the window and sticks an arm out, still complaining about the heat. You ignore him, checking your email to see if anyone has tried to contact you. In the middle of reading a long winded email your assistant sent you Dirk touches your shoulder. You look up and he looks concerned.

"Are you listening?"

"What?"

"I've said your name like 3 times."

"Oh, my bad. What were you saying?"

"Jesus bro, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"Well I don't know, you've been staring at your phone like you want to kill someone. Apparently you're going deaf because I've been trying to talk to you for like 5 minutes. Is there a particular reason you're letting yourself bake in a sweater when it's almost 95 degrees out?"

Fuck. That's all you can think at this moment. You've been out of the apartment for less than a day and he's already picking up on things. You just stare at him, unable to form a complete thought.

"I'm fine kid, don't worry. Part of a set broke so that probably explains my scowl. Maybe I am going deaf, I wouldn't be surprised. People do enjoy yelling in my general vicinity. And I'm wearing the sweater because it makes me look suave. Don't you think I look suave, Dirk?"

The moment you say that you know it was wrong. You want to facepalm but you just turn your attention to the phone again. That was so dumb, why did you say that? You can feel him watching you. He's not going to let this go. You know he's formulating some sort of plan as you read more frantic emails.

But why can't these people do their jobs for once? it's so frustrating! Half of these messages are saying the exact same thing. What happened to coordination? You guess that was never really a thing. You're about to email them back but Dirk takes the phone out of your hand. You look at him and he gives you a very… odd look.

"We're here apparently."

"Shit. Thanks kid."

You really are out of it, when did that happen? You pay the driver, grab your bags and walk to the hotel. Once you check in you ride the elevator up to the top floor. Dirk hasn't said anything, he's just looking around at everything. You eventually come across your door so you swipe the key and go inside. The air conditioning feels like heaven.

"There was only one room available, sorry. I'll sleep on the couch." Dirk stays quiet, continuing to walk around and inspect the room. You put your bag next to the wall, kick off your shoes and collapse onto the couch. Dirk walks over to you and sighs before turning on the TV. For some reason you can't open your eyes. You hear him set something on the side table while muttering a few words under his breath. Before you know it your body feels heavy and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The beginning of your day consisted of Dave waking you up repeatedly. It got old really fast. You don't remember much of what happened until you landed in California. You think you helped the movers with the machine, drove your car somewhere and ate pizza. After that you got on the plane and fell asleep.

Dave started out fine but as the day progressed he got more and more distant. Distracted. It seemed like he lost all sense of the outside world. All of your attempts to talk to him were ignored until you had to touch him to make him pay attention to you. Even then he was still withdrawn.

When you got to the hotel you couldn't help but marvel at the fancy interior. There were marble floors with gold accents, a fountain with a chandelier hanging above it. Oil paintings in expensive large frames cover the walls and the furniture scattered about looks straight out of a renaissance castle. You ended up taking a super hip snapchat next to a painting of an old man. The elevator was just as fancy as the lobby and the hallways didn't disappoint either.

That brings you to now, you're looking around the room, running a hand against whatever you come across. One of the walls has a window facing the city. The bed is huge with multiple pillows and a incredibly soft bedspread.

You hear Dave say you're sharing a room but he'll sleep in the couch. Then he falls onto said couch, not moving after that. His phone buzzes in your pocket so you turn it off and place it on the side table. Murmuring goodnight you turn on the TV. You don't really care what channel is playing, all you want is some background noise.

Once you feel you've explored enough you pull your laptop and phone charger out of your bag. Plugging both in you look around for the hotel wifi passcode. Eventually you find it next to a coffee maker and you're quickly wasting time on the Internet. First you check various social media websites. You sigh at the amount of messages and posts being sent to you. It's nearly impossible to go through all this. Maybe you should invent an auto responder, like a computerized secretary. That would probably help dave too.

You close all of the tabs and decide to go browse forums. As you lurk your mind wanders to earlier conversations. Dave seems to get kinda weird whenever you mention his clothing choices. You just find it a bit odd he wears long sleeves in such hot weather. Maybe it really is an aesthetic thing, you make a note to look into it later.

You come across a post describing spoilers to one of your favorite manga and all previous thoughts are discarded. You begin reading about the new update, looking at the few raw images posted. You smile slightly, suddenly very excited about the new chapter. You continue to click around, looking through semi interesting posts. You always find it funny when you come across threads about dave's movies. People overanalyze the shit out of everything, drawing conclusions you know bro would laugh at.

Speaking of bro, you turn your attention to his sleeping form. He's been out cold since you got here, you wonder about the sudden change. Only you're once again distracted, this time by a message from Jake. You open the chat and greet him. Unfortunately your talk is cut short because he has to deal with something outside. His life is so hectic, exploring an island without any sort of protection or safety gear. He's going to be seriously injured one day. You shrug and go back to browsing.

As time goes on you can't help but grow bored. You put the laptop aside and watch tv for a bit, realizing it's been on the news this whole time. You change it to something more interesting. This entertains you for an hour or so until you grow hungry. Standing, you walk over to Dave. You go to shake his shoulder but the moment your hand touches him his eyes snap open and he sits up. You stare at each other for a few seconds before you address why you woke him up.

"I'm hungry."

"Oh," he says, voice hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. "Just order room service or some shit."

"Can you do it for me?" You've never ordered room service before and aren't confident you know what to do.

"Yeah," he stands up and walks to the phone. "What do you want?"

"I don't know. Where is the thing with the menu?" You feel somewhat helpless. He laughs lightly and hands you a little leather pamphlet. You skim through it, finding all this food sounds rather fancy. Fancy and unappetizing. Sighing heavily you put the menu down and stop for a minute. Defeated, you look up to make awkward eye contact.

"Can you just order Chinese food?" He actually laughs at this. With a smile on his face he pats your head before feeling around his pockets for his cell phone. You grab the device from the side table and place it in his hands. Thanking you he turns it on before dialing what you assume is a Chinese restaurant. After a short exchange he tells you it'll be here soon.

He walks over to the couch, scrolling through his phone again. He starts typing a message, stopping here and there to read other messages before continuing his own. When you see him press send his shoulder slouch, relaxing somewhat. Locking his phone he puts it on the coffee table and stretches, joints popping with the motion.

You spend ten minutes looking out the window, staring at the colorful streetlights and signs. The fast moving traffic creates little lines of white and red. People dart around like ants and suddenly you realize you're very high up. Tops of skyscrapers surround you, blocking some of the street below. In the middle of your admiring there is a knock on the door. Dave pays for the food and brings it over. He grabs a box out of the bag and leaves the rest for you. It's far too much to eat but leftovers are a Striders best friend.

"Bro there's nothing to drink." You complain. He looks at you in disbelief.

"Drink water."

"But I want something with taste."

"Like orange soda?"

"Yes. Exactly like orange soda."

"You needy little shit." He sighs before pulling out his wallet, "Come here." You walk over to him and he puts $10 in your hand. "There should be a vending machine in the hall. Go buy your fucking soda."

"Isn't this a bit too much money for one drink?"

"Buy more than one if it annoys you. I don't have any other bills."

You look at the money in your hand and shrug. Not bothering with your shoes you exit the room, leaving the door ajar. After some searching you find some fancy vending machines. There's all sorts of different drinks and snacks. You buy two orange sodas and a bottle of apple juice for Dave. Somehow you successfully make it back to the room in one piece. You walk over and hand him the change and juice.

"Thanks." You say as you put one of the drinks in the fridge. He thanks you in return and you go back to eating. Even though these surroundings are weird, it's peaceful. If this is what living in California will be like you're very excited. You'll finally be able to chill with your brother again. It's been so long since you spent more than a few days together. Maybe you didn't know you missed him this much until now.

Suddenly, literally out of nowhere you sniffle. Dave stills, turning all of this attention to you. You try to stop it but your shoulders shutter and a desperate sob leaves the back of your throat. Instantly he's next to you, pulling you into a hug and carding a hand through your hair. You hug back, sobbing and completely unsure why you're doing so. He holds you close, whispering soft nice things to you. You feel like this has happened before but you don't remember when.

You stay like this, him running a hand down your back and up through your hair. Every now and then he kisses your forehead or the side of your head lightly. Telling you that you're alright and that everything is fine. It all seems so stereotypical but it's helping immensely. The overwhelming sadness that randomly washed over you in slowly edging away. You cry in your brother's arms but it's alright, because he's here. He's here and maybe the loneliness you've shoved to the back of your mind will start to fade.

You stay like that for a few more minutes, Dave holding and comforting you the entire time. You're not crying anymore, just shuddering slightly in his grasp. Eventually you begrudgingly detach yourself from his arms and scoot back. When you look at him he smiles warmly.

"Are you okay?" Dave asks softly, smoothing unstyled hair out of your eyes. You sniff and try to get the leftover wetness off your face. He takes over and gently wipes your cheek, you can't help but chuckle lightly.

"I'm good." You reply, voice still thick from crying. "I don't really know what that was about." You say awkwardly as an afterthought. You're alittle embarrassed to be honest.

"It's fine. As long as you're okay now." He says, not making and motion to leave. You can tell he's genuinely worried. His body language is calm but you can see the underlying concern. It's then you realize the food has been completely forgotten, it's still sitting on the bed where you left it.

"You can finish eating if you want." He stopped what he was doing right when you started crying. You feel kinda bad for making him drop everything for you. You usually try to be as put together as you can be to make things easier for him. He tilts his head, lips forming a crooked line.

"Naw, I'm not very hungry anyways." He turns to the TV but doesn't seem to have any plans of leaving the bed. You scoot over to the food and resume eating. Every now and then you look over at him, he doesn't seem too surprised by your little breakdown. You know you use to be pretty unstable so maybe he's use to it. You aren't very sure how you feel about that.

"Uh, bro?" You say in the middle of eating an egg roll. He looks over at you, bright red eyes peering into your own. You stare at him for a minute, it's not often you see him without his shades. He has horrible dark circles, looking incredibly similar to bruises. It's like he gets no sleep at all. His eyes are distant, sad in general. You don't know what to think.

"Thanks."

* * *

Two more days pass in the hotel. It's uneventful and calm, you spend most of the time on your laptop and sitting on the connected porch. The heat here is different from texas, there it was oppressive and overwhelming while it just floats around you here. It's hot, but not smoldering. Bro goes to work for a few hours here and there but it's not anywhere near a week. While you're updating your twitter and browsing the web dave's phone rings. He has some sort of conversation but you can't hear because of the headphones covering your ears. When he gets off the couch you remove them and look up.

"The movers will be at the apartment soon. Get ready so we can meet them there."

You get up and start packing things in your suitcase, Dave doing the same. You're excited about seeing the new apartment, you're betting it's much nicer than the last. You'll have your own bathroom, that'll be nice. Once all of you shit is packed you walk down to the lobby together and he checks out of the hotel. Your own car is already at the apartment so you follow him to his and start the drive to the new place.

"Is it very far?" you ask.

"Not really. It's still away from the city but not as far as the previous one."

Traffic stalls and you look at the surrounding cars. Most people are looking at their phone or eating. A few of them are talking to people in the passenger and back seats. The traffic starts moving again. This time the drive isn't interrupted so you're eventually in front of the new apartment complex.

"This looks fancy." You comment and he just nods. Leading you to an elevator he clicks the 22nd floor out of 25. After the brief ride up you're in a hall and then in front of a door. Dave opens it and you follow him in. Your first impression is that it's nice. Really fucking nice. The main living area has hardwood floors, with grey walls and white trim. There are already a few things here, curtains and a cream rug. You can't help but think the shitty furniture from Texas will clash with the modern vibe.

Dave tells you to put your bags in the kitchen so you look around until you see an open kitchen connected to the living room. The wood of the cabinets are a slightly darker than the floor. Somehow the grey granite countertops, stone backsplash and metal appliances mesh together very well. Dave calls to you so you go back down to the street to greet the movers.

They start by carrying all of the furniture for dave's room first. He doesn't have much so it's pretty simple to get all of that in the right place. Next they get all of the furniture for the livingroom and kitchen moved in. He left your room for last and lets you deal with the placement of your own furniture. You guess about the location of alot of thing but you'll be able to move most of them easily. In the middle of the process you realize he gave you the master bedroom. Finally all of the various boxes are stacked in the livingroom and the movers leave after getting another generous tip.

"This place is really nice bro" You tell him as you open boxes and start to put things in their appropriate places.

"I'm glad you like it."

"The air conditioning is wonderful, not broken at all. Damn"

"It's really the simple things that get you."

You go back to inspecting the rooms, not wanting to sit down and unpack yet. Your bathroom is just what you expected. A huge jacuzzi tub, a steam shower, really anything you'd ever need in a bathroom is here. The lights are bright as they illuminate the white tile. The countertop is cool under your fingertips as you look through the drawers and cabinets. When you finally exit your room dave is looking in a box skeptically.

"What are you doing?"

"What the hell am i supposed to do with a box full of random fucking weapons?"

"Just leave it there until more shit is unpacked. Then we can scatter them around, make it feel like home."

"Okay."

You go through various boxes, putting anime figures and games away on shelves. You throw mechanical robotic supplies in your walk in closet. You've never had this big of a closet. This much storage in general is exciting. You can put all the metal and tools away so you won't trip and cut yourself all the time. After putting all your posters up you start organizing your clothes and dressing your bed.

Eventually your items are put away except for your computer along with its accessories and external hard drives. Your gaming consoles and controllers are piled on your bed in a big mass of cords. You start untangling wires and plugging in your multiple electronics. After almost an hour and a half everything is set up and your room Is basically unpacked. You wander out to the living room and see most of the boxes are now empty or broken down.

"Need any help?" You ask him. He's putting plates and silverware away. Kitchenware is stacked on the counters while he tries to find places to stash things.

"Can you put away the weapons and that box full of random shit?"

You nod, sifting through the boxes. You start putting the random items in stupid locations, hiding things under furniture and behind books or movies. The weapons go in more obvious places to ensure nobody gets stabbed. You put up the remaining posters and by the time he's done in the kitchen the whole apartment looks much more strider-esque. It's a nice mixture of the new vibes and old foundations. You smile up at him and he pats your head softly. After a few words you go your separate ways to spend your first night in the new apartment.


	14. Chapter 14

striders throughout the ages  
Trigger warnings- child abuse, blood, hallucinations.

* * *

You're walking home from elementary school on a hot April afternoon. You got beat up again, Bro always tells you to stand up for yourself because that's what a proper strider does. But the last time you did that you sprained someone's wrist and broke another person's nose. You don't want to hurt anybody. Somehow, that wasn't enough to run them off. Now they just gang up on you. They know you can't take on 5 of them.

You sniff and try to wipe the blood off your face. Your arm has road burn and you're sporting a nasty black eye under the shades. Smaller bruises litter your body from where they threw pebbles and rocks at you. People stare as you stumble passed them on the crowded sidewalk. Some of them look like they're about to ask if you're okay. They never do though, nobody ever bothers. You don't blame them.

You're not watching where you're going when you run right into someone. You fall back, shades abandoning your face on the way down. You wince as you hit the cement, skimming both of your elbows and hands. Frantically try to find your shades without opening your eyes. Eventually you feel them and slip them on. When you open your eyes a young businessman in a fedora with bright blue eyes is kneeling in front of you. You gasp and scramble back, frantically apologizing.

"Woah, lad, calm down. You've done nothing wrong."

He holds out his hand and you think he's trying to help you up. Hesitantly you take it and feel yourself being pulled off the ground moments later. On your feet you brush the dirt off your hands and onto your already filthy pants. You thank him near silently and he tells you it's fine. After standing in front of him for a few seconds you begin to walk away, looking back once. He's watching with a concerned expression as you limp off.

Walking sucks, people always stare at you. You wish you could take the bus or maybe bro world drive you. That would be nice but it will never happen. Only in your dreams. You make it down about half of a block when you hear someone call to you. Looking that way you see the man from before jogging up. You tense and wait.

"Young man, are you alright?" He asks, kneeling to your level. Suddenly you feel extremely cornered. Nodding once, you look around him to find a way to escape. "Are you sure?" You nod again and as soon as there's an opening you bolt, running to the apartment and far away from the first person to ask if you're okay.

* * *

You're woken up by a kick to the stomach. Bro pulls you out of bed by your hair and you yelp in pain. Why is he doing this? You're dumped on the ground where he looks down at you stoically. Why doesn't he show any emotion? Why does he hate you so much?

"You're going to online school now so don't bother going out anymore."

"I dun hav'a computer…"

"Yeah I thought about that. Use the one in the living room."

"Wha 'bout ta password?"

"You can figure it out."

"But-" you're cut off by bro kicking you again. You whimper and cover your head as he continues to attack you. You don't understand!

"What the fuck kind of strider are you? Whimpering on the ground and shit. You're 11, you need to learn to shut up and take it. You can't go through life being a lil' bitch." He lifts you off the ground by your collar and punches you, making your ears ring. As you try to get your head together he pushes you. You hit your head against a shelf before collapsing. Bro laughs and leaves the room as you struggle to pick yourself up. You use your sleeve to stop the blood coming from your nose and sit up against the wall. You get the feeling he'll kill you one day.

* * *

"Happy mother fucking birthday lil' man." Bro kicks open the door and walks up to you. You're wondering if he's finally going to chill with you but you're quickly proven wrong. He shoves a baby in your hands and smiles wickedly. Your heart is pumping a mile a minute, anxiety filling your body. Why the _fuck_ does bro have a baby. Why is is giving you a baby? Is he expecting you to take care of it? You literally just turned 15! That's impossible!

"Wait, what? Bro what is this?" You sound nervous and scared. Honestly you're freaking out.

"It's your 15th birthday and as per strider tradition you have to start taking care of our little brother. It's like a coming of age, a right of passage." He explains coldly, inspecting you from behind the anime shades. You can't breathe, he really does expect you to take care of a child.

"Bro I can't!" You're struggling to hold the squirming toddler.

"It's either you take care of the little shit or it dies. It's all in your hands now lil' man." He comments offhand.

"I dunno anythin 'bout kids!" You're being very open with your words, might want to step it back. He's looking pretty angry. "How old is he?" You try to move your hold but you almost drop him instead.

"Three."

"What?! Why can't he walk? He should be able to do that, right?" You think a baby should be able to do a lot more than this at three. Shouldn't he be walking and talking by now? How are you supposed to work with this?

"I don't know. Maybe it's broken. Nobody really taught it anything except for a few fucked up prostitutes."

So he was abandoned, neglected. Just like you. Something inside you tightens. You have a chance, a chance to continue the fucked up cycle of abuse or do better. Then and there you decide you're going to do better. You'll give them a life you never had, one you never had the chance to enjoy. Somehow, someway, you'll do it.

"Wha's his name?" He has to have a name.

"Uhh…" He pauses for a second, actually thinking. How does someone forget a child's name? "I'm pretty sure it's Dirk."

"What am I supposed to do? How do I get diapers and food?" This is getting pretty risky, you're saying whatever comes to mind. You can't do that around bro, even if he did just shove a baby in your arms.

"Do I have to explain everything to you? Jesus, figure it out moron." He walks right out of the apartment, leaving a crying baby in your arms. After a few seconds your own tears start up aswell. You sink to the ground and hug your new brother. At least now you're not suffering alone. You don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

* * *

Not knowing dirk's birthday is bothering you. You don't know when you should get him presents, you don't know when to count him as one year older. Honestly you don't know how old he is exactly. Because of this you decided to let him pick it out himself. You stole a calendar from the dollar store and sat him down in the living room with it in front of him.

"Ok Dirk, look through this and show me the page you like the most." He picks up the calendar without saying anything and starts skimming through it. You made sure to pick one with pictures so he could differentiate the pages. Eventually he stops at December and points to the picture of a horse. You should have guessed.

"Now what number is your favorite?" he looks up at you skeptically, "I know you know how to count, what one is your favorite?" This time he stares at the page for much longer, probably counting to himself. After a few minutes he points to the 3rd and you laugh to yourself. He just chose your birthday as his own. There is no way he knew it was your birthday, you've never mentioned or celebrated it. What an odd coincidence. Well, no going back now.

"Go grab a colored pencil." You instruct so he gets up and runs to the bedroom. After a few seconds he runs back with an orange pencil. You take it from him and write 'dirk's birthday' on the date. Once again he looks up at you obviously confused.

"Do you wanna ask me something?" He nods and you smile lightly, "Out with it. I dunno what you want unless you actually talk." He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. Eventually he points to what you wrote and says a single word.

"What?" Well, it's not a full sentence but it's better than nothing.

"Your birthday is officially December 3rd. That means you'll get cake and presents on that day, we'll do whatever you want." He claps a few times, beaming up at you. Before you know it he's jumping onto you and hugging tightly. You know he doesn't really understand what you said but his enthusiasm is cute. You think he probably likes the idea of cake and doing what he wants.

* * *

"Bro what's the tooth fairy?"

"Uh… I dunno." The tooth fairy? It sounds like some sort of toothpaste mascot.

"The kids in my class were talking about it and then this thing called the easter bunny. Is that like a type of rabbit?"

"Well the easter bunny is this giant humanoid rabbit thing that hides eggs for jesus. I think people's parents give em' chocolate or something along those lines because of it. I have no idea what the tooth fairy is though. Sorry."

"They said it's a fairy that gives you money when you lose teeth. Everyone knew about it but I didn't."

"Well kid I didn't know about it either. See, school teaches you about all sorts of neat things."

"But if this thing gives people money for their teeth wouldn't someone go out and start taking other peoples teeth and leave them under their pillows to get a bunch of money?"

"Dirk- what?" You sit for a second, in complete shock. He doesn't ask why the tooth fairy doesn't visit him, he asked that. He's such a weird kid.

"I mean, I know it's not real but why don't people do that?"

"Because literally nobody else thinks of collecting other peoples teeth once they're told they'll get money under their pillow when they lose a tooth."

"It was my first thought."

"I know."

* * *

You're trying to figure out some finances when your horrible prepaid phone rings. Hesitantly you answer, "Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Strider? I'm an administrator from the school."

"Uh, yeah. What's wrong?"

"Dirk got in a fight. Well, it's more like some kids started bullying dirk and broke his sunglasses. They called him a few names after and he's pretty upset. He refuses to talk to anyone." You feel a surge of anger and then sadness. Protectiveness. You knew this would happen but you didn't think they would actually break his shades.

"I'll be there as soon as i can. Can you please tell him i'm coming to get him?"

"Sure, I'll see you soon." You hang up and try to put together a decent outfit. Something that covers 99% of your skin, maybe then you can look somewhat normal. Once you're dressed you sprint out the door, not even bothering to lock it. After running down the stairs and to the bus stop you barely make it in time for the next shuttle. Anxiously you sit on the bus, waiting for traffic to move and for you to get to dirks school. 10 minutes pass and you're starting to get pretty desperate. The moment the driver signals the correct stop you get up and wait. As soon as the doors open you quickly exit and start walking to the school.

The street is hot, people walking all around you. You often forget how much you hate being around people, you're only outside at night and when you get dirk. Maybe you're bitter. After trekking a considerable distance you finally find yourself in front of his elementary school. It's in the main part of town so it looks rather fancy. You enter the building and then the main office. After talking to the secretary she tells you to go talk with the principle. You go into his office but honestly you just need to talk to dirk.

"Hello, take a seat."

"I'm sorry sir but i really need to talk to my brother. If you're going to tell me about the bully or something i really don't care. I realize i'm being quite blunt and rude but he needs to talk to me. I trust you'll do the right thing regarding the punishment of the bullies. Can i just go take him home?"

He looks at you for a few seconds before nodding, "He's in the nurse's office. Theres one nurse in there because it's required by law." He gets up and leads you to the door, "Talk to the secretary when you need to check out."

"Thanks." That worked surprisingly well, they're never that nice to you. Maybe they feel bad about what happened. You open the door and see dirk jump. He's sitting on a cot, staring at the hands in his lap. You can see his broken shades on a nearby table and bandages on his arm. The moment he looks up you can see he has a split lip and is starting to develope black eye. You forgot children could be this cruel. He looks so sad, like he wants to cry, when he spots you the tears actually come.

"Oh kid." You sit next to him and pull him into a hug, "I understand. It sucks, right?" He nods and sniffs, latching onto your shirt but still trying to appear calm.

"People did this to me alot too. They still do. It's horrible, the things they do and say when they find one odd thing about someone. I was once told that this is the type of thing that comes along with being a strider. While it sounds horrible i feel like it's right." He nods again, "Did they break your shades before or after they saw your eyes?"

"After."

"Yeah. I'm sorry that happened, I wanted to avoid it. I guess it was inevitable." He shrugs and you sigh, "Dirk listen, you might not believe me but you are so, so much smarter than any of your classmates. I bet you're even smarter than some of the teachers, we both know you're smarter than me." He giggles slightly. "But you're real smart dirk and one day you're going to do great things. The robots? Revolutionary. It's incredible the things you come up with. So while it's horrible now it'll get better. I swear. I'll make sure of it."

He whispers "thanks," before hugging you alittle tighter. You put an arm around him and stay like that for a few minutes. You hear sniffling from behind you and when you look back you can see the nurse crying. Wonderful.

"You wanna wear my shades while we go home?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll show you people treat me differently too."

You take off your own shades and hand them to him, squinting at the bright lights. He puts them on and looks at you, "Bro you need to sleep more." He comments and you laugh. Yep. You definitely do need to sleep more and it's probably written all over your unshaded face.

"Let's go, maybe I can figure out a way for us to get ice cream while we get you new shades." He mumbles 'kay' so you stand up, him following. As soon as you turn to the nurse and make eye contact she gasps. You figure she was probably expecting orange. Dirk looks up at you but you don't react and keep walking to the secretary.

You enter the other room and the rustling of papers stops. You can see people shifting to watch you. You talk to the attendance secretary and tell her you need to check out Dirk but she just gapes. Your eyes tend to do this. People stare, gasp and gawk, those being the good reactions. It's unnatural, vibrant, piercing and your lack of sleep and food gives you large dark circles adding to the effect. You ask again and eventually she goes through the process and gives you the ok to go. As you're leaving the building dirk hands you the sunglasses.

"I think you need them more than I do."

* * *

"Bro?" Dirk walks out into the livingroom with a terrified expression. "There's something in my room." You frown, what does he mean? Is this the monster under the bed shit? You didn't think he'd fall into that cliche.

"Let's go look." You start to stand but he shakes his head.

"No." Honestly he looks really, really scared. "No, I don't want to go back in there."

"Okay, come sit with me." He sits right next to you and you can feel him shaking. You're becoming increasingly worried. What did he see? "What's wrong?"

"I- I saw something." He stammers and you nod. "I don't know what it was. It wasn't human or an animal or anything like that." You nod again, putting an arm around his shoulders. "It was like a shadow that didn't belong there."

"Are you sure it wasn't a trick of the eye?" You try to reason calmly.

"Bro it was there." He's been staring at his lap the whole time. "It's been there for weeks. It goes away sometimes but…" He sounds hollow and you're really concerned by now. "It's always there. Sometimes there are more and it gets really loud even though nothing is making any noise."

His voice has constricted, tears falling onto his clenched hands. Oh god, he's being serious. You pull him into a tight hug, letting him sob into your neck. Is he seeing things? That's the only thing that can explain this. You kiss his forehead and try your best to comfort him. You can't even imagine, It's probably terrifying.

"I'll keep you safe kiddo, I promise."

* * *

"I made an online friend named Roxy the other day. And get this, her mom is Rose Lalonde!" Dirk tells you happily as you walk him to the school bus.

"The famous author?" You ask, just to make sure. You're not very in with the times. The most pop culture you get is what you hear fellow street walkers gossip about.

"Yeah! She's basically famous. How cool is that?"

"That is pretty cool kid."

"Do you think I'll ever be famous?" He's looking up at you with these adorable hopeful eyes from under his shades.

"You? Defiantly."

* * *

You walk into the living room, fully expecting it to be empty. But to your surprise bro is sitting on the floor writing something. It seems to be some sort of homework. You shuffle over to him, plopping down right across from him. He looks up at you and smiles sadly.

"Kid I wish I weren't so dumb."

"You're not dumb."

"I am though, it's kinda an established thing. At this point you're much smarter than me."

"But you're in college, I'm still in middle school."

"Well I just started college and I basically only had education up until the beginning of middle school so I don't really know anything worthwhile. I don't even know how I got into college without a highschool diploma. They say the only thing I'm somewhat decent at is reading and writing but even then I have shit grammar and I can't actually pronounce simple words correctly. Don't even get me started on math."

"Math?"

"Yeah. Math. I don't know about any of the shit they're talking about. I don't understand any of it! I can hardly divide and multiply. Fractions are impossible, I don't know what the hell an exponent is and I've never even heard of the order of operations in my life! I'm an honest to god moron."

"I can help you."

"What?"

"I understand all of that so I can teach you if you want."

"You're a gift from heaven I swear to god. At least one strider has a brain. Please help your idiot brother. Maybe with you here I won't fail quite so miserably"

* * *

"You need to stop coming to the apartment." You tell Bro in the hallway. You're so scared, the outcome of this conversation won't be good. The last time you did something like this he nearly broke your arm.

"Finally standing up for yourself, huh? Well sorry kid this is my house." You take a large breath and try to maintain some sort of confidence. This is so hard. He's so difficult to be around. It makes you remember all the shit he's done to you.

"I pay for everything. I pay rent and all of the bills. It's under my name. You can't keep sneaking in and fucking with me. You don't own the place and I'm not your fucking _toy_." Your voice is shaking but you're keeping eye contact. His poker face is unrelenting.

"Y'know what? Alright." Your jaw literally drops. "I respect ya for finally being less of a pussy, standing up for yourself. I'll leave you alone on one condition. Once you start making real money I want you to send it my way whenever I ask. Deal?"

He holds out his hand and you shake it.

* * *

"I'm going to have to stay in California for awhile." You tell Dirk awkwardly. "It's for the movie, gotta get shit finalized."

He looks at you with an unreadable expression before nodding. You bite your lip, watching for any sort of indication of his true feelings. You feel so bad about this, you don't want to leave him home alone. That's the last thing you want. This is honestly flashbacks to your childhood.

"It'll only be like 2 weeks, I'll give you all sorts of money and we can go grocery shopping before I leave." You're trying to make this better, less shitty for the both of you. He just nods again and you deflate. "I'm sorry kid. I'm so sorry. This will be the only time. Believe me, I don't like this any more than you do."

"It's fine."

You can tell he's lying.

/.../

You're back in California, living in a run down motel for the 3rd week this month. You feel horrible. You have seen dirk for a grand total of 6 days in the past month. You're a major piece of shit. This is exactly what you didn't want to happen. For some reason being alone is hard on you. Really fucking hard. You haven't been completely alone in a very long time and now there is far too much time to just sit and think.

Overthinking has always been your downfall.

You're honestly not sure when or why you started hurting yourself again. Apparently if you're alone you can fall back on stupid bad habits. The moment you made that first cut you knew you fucked up. You knew you shouldn't have reopened those doors. But you did and it's biting you in the ass.

Now you're just left wondering what will happen when the movie ends? Will you become a disgusting millionaire like everyone is saying? You don't know if you actually want that. It sounds nice on paper but what does the celebrity lifestyle actually entail? It's too late to go back now. You're in too deep.

Maybe that's why you're reverting back to your old ways, you're losing control of your life. Everything is changing far too quickly for your liking. Other people are trying to orchestrate your actions and you cannot handle that. _You are_ _not_ _a puppet._

/.../

You just got done talking to one of the producers and you honestly don't like where things are going. The set of the second movie isn't in Texas, it's in California. Now you know for a fact dirk prefers when you stay home so he won't like this. At all. You hope he doesn't get too mad. When you finally catch him it's in the kitchen.

"So you know how I'm starting filming of the new movie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to have to go to California again."

His face literally falls and your heart drops. He looks really upset. More upset than you've seen in years. This is bad. You nervously wait for a reply. After awhile you finally get a very angry one.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. You go do that, see if I fucking care. It's not like I'm use to it or anything."

He turns around and stomps to his room, slamming the door behind him. You hear multiple streams of profanity, most of which directed at you. You're breathing erratically, trying to maintain composure as you tremble. Standing in the kitchen you feel tears fill your eyes. You put a hand over you mouth to muffle your terrified sobs.

He hates you.

* * *

You're in a team with a few well known internet personalities playing a competitive first person shooter. One of the people you lowkey called out once just got a decent number of followers, you have a feeling you're the only reason they had a boost in popularity. They're having some sort of celebratory livestream thing and wanted you to join, you accepted because you have nothing better to do. In the middle of a match you hear the front door open and close followed by a sigh. You ignore it because you're concentrating and bro probably wants a minute alone. He did just get home from work at 10 pm after all.

Your teamspeak channel and the hosts gameplay footage is being streamed while a few acquaintances are talking to eachother and answering questions from the viewers. You carry the team through the rounds, getting a majority of the kills with nearly no deaths. it's obvious to anyone paying attention but your co-hosts are not doing that. When they finally look at the score one of them makes an offhand comment.

"Jeez Dirk, slow your roll."

"Are you suggesting i play in a different fashion? Would you rather I stand in the spawn zone and jump back and forth like an idiot who just figured out what the space key does? I am completely ready and willing to do so." In the other room a faint 'be polite kid' is heard. You chuckle, cursing yourself once you realize you forgot to turn off your mic.

"Fuck you dude." The livestream host says somewhat jokingly, "But did you just laugh?"

"Did I?" You feign ignorance.

"I think you did." He continues, well maybe you can mess with him alittle more. He is using you for views anyways.

"I do laugh you know, i may build robots but I am not one myself. Just because i act cold doesn't mean i don't have emotions. I am a human and I would appreciate it of you treated me with more respect." You pause for a few seconds, adding tension, "Because I'm sure everyone here can agree that a 17 year old who likes my little pony, puppets, and wears anime shades deserves the respect of the fucking pope. I'm the next queen of england, the next president of the good ol' u.s of a. I am the most respectable piece of shit around so you better get with the program."

"You're such a confusing asshole."

"It runs in the family."

"Just start another match."

Just as the match starts dave walks right into your room. He looks at the various screens with vague interest before turning to you. You spare him a short glance before looking at the monitor again. The first round starts and you set out, killing people quickly as per usual.

"Kid." Dave says after a few minutes, you were wondering how long he would just stand there. You make a small 'hmm' as an answer. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Isn't like everywhere closed?" You reply after taking off your headset and turning away from the game. You really aren't invested in what you're doing anyways. You honestly can't think of where to eat, It's pretty late and not many places are open past 10pm. The sad thing is neither of you can cook so getting take out is really your only option.

"There has to be somewhere open, just pick. If worst comes to worst i'm always down for a good ol' burger and fries from our friendly neighborhood mcdonalds."

"You could have some sort of fucking banquet but instead we're going with the mcdonald's drive through."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No," you sigh, "I don't. Calling for a pizza seems cruel and that 24 hour chinese place we always go to caught on fire. Which is a shame because those eggrolls were legendary."

"The eggrolls really were quite extraordinary. But stop taunting people on the internet and get ready, i'm starving."

"Alright I'll be out in a minute."

Dave exits the room so you put on your headset again. Even though you come back to your character being dead, the team being defeated you calmly say, "I have to go."

"We know." Snickers the host. "You forgot to turn off your mic son." Well shit. That really sucks. How did that even happen? Looking at the keyboard you see that your keybind for turning on the mic is stuck. Maybe you should clean up the sticky soda that's all over your desk.

"Well then all of you viewers just got a little sneak peak into the life of Dave Strider. Interesting shit, am I right? Anyways, gotta go." Before you close the browser you see comments like, 'striders/eggrolls 2k16' and, 'dirk was the only only good thing about this stream' in the feed.

* * *

"Bro I'm going to paint your nails. It's going to happen so don't even try to fight it." Dirk walks into the living room of the new apartment with two bottles of nail polish in hand. He plops down right next to you on the couch.

"Kid don't start this again." He use to do this all the time when he was young. It gave him something to do in a boring apartment. He stopped awhile ago but you guess the itch is back.

"What color do you want? I have orange and red." He straight up ignored you. Why do people always ignore you?

"You always choose the colors of our eyes. Don't you have a different color?"

"Nope."

"Okay, fine. Go with whatever you want."

He opens the red bottle and softly takes your hand into his own. He's so warm, you bet you're freezing. You watch reality television while he paints every other nail bright red. You didn't know nail polish came in this intense of a shade. The orange goes on the remaining unpainted nails, this color just as bright as the last. He screws on the caps and fans your nails.

"Don't move. I'll be right back." He tells you and stands up to walk back into his room. You inspect your wet nails while he's gone. It's actually kinda nice, the colors aren't as imposing as you were expecting. He comes back with another bottle of polish. From what you can see its gold sparkles.

"Are you putting glitter on my nails?" You ask skeptically.

"Yup."

"Kid."

"You said I could do what I want." He mocks.

"Within reason!"

"This is reasonable. Mine are much more intense than yours." He holds out his hand like he's showing off a new engagement ring. His nails are red and orange much like yours only he has actual gems and a bunch of random shiny shit stuck on there. "I was planning on doing this to you too but I don't want to waste good rhinestones on nails that will be ruined right when you go to work."

He takes your hands again and puts a generous coat of glitter on each nail. You find this slightly calming, relaxing. Really you just like the fact that dirk is holding your hand so gently, you feel cared for even if it's just for his enjoyment. He starts blowing on and fanning the nails, the little puffs of air are cool against the drying polish.

"You have really nice hands," he comments. You can't help but think that was alittle weird. You don't reply but he adds another observation, "they're pretty."

You focus on the show while dirk plays with your hands. After awhile you realize he's just been holding one. You look over at him and he smiles smugly, squeezing lightly.

"Is there a reason you're still holding my hand?"

"I want to."

"Was this part of your plan?"

"No, I really did want to paint your nails. This is just an added bonus."

You sigh but don't try to move away. The little shit must know how much you love the attention. He starts rubbing your palm but you're not paying enough attention to realize when you hum contently. Eventually he leans against you, watching the random shit playing on the tv.

"Take a picture with me."

"No."

"Please?"

"Is this for your dumb social media bullshit?" He shrugs, "I don't have my shades."

"Cover your eyes with your hand, i'm gonna do it too. We can show off our nails." He's smiling ear to ear, he must really want this to happen.

"This is fucking gay." you groan.

"News flash: I'm hella gay and I'm certain that you are too. Just do it!"

"Fine."

You proceed to pose for a picture for way longer than necessary. Dirk keeps saying he doesn't look good enough. Shifting around he takes more photos at different angles. After almost 2 minutes of this you can't take much more.

"Dirk, kid please. I'm sure you look great, half of your face is covered. Can we just watch the show?"

"One more picture, I promise."


	15. Chapter 15

You've made it this far and i'm so proud of you. As a gift i'm giving you ACTUAL PLOT DEVELOPMENT!  
Trigger warnings- Self harm and hella blood.

* * *

You're sitting on the cold white tile floor of your bathroom. The fluorescent light fill the space with an artificial cream tint, it feels small and enclosed. Panicked gasps are heard as you attempt to slow your racing thoughts. You honestly tried to stop doing this once Dirk moved in with you, you've been clean for almost a month. The large gashes have started to close and the more shallow cuts are completely healed. But you can't do it anymore, in the back of your mind you knew you wouldn't be able to stop.

A broken shaving razor sits next to you, a few of your fingers cut from prying the plastic apart. Now one of the thin blades is gripped in your hand. Five bloody, gaping gashes cover your arm, blood trickling from the injuries. There is a pool of red forming on the ground and you should be concerned, trying to stop your bleeding. Instead you bring the blade to your arm and quickly drag it across your skin one more time. You flinch at the pain only to be distracted by bright red dripping off your hand.

This last cut is worse than the others, making your vision fade slightly. Weakly you feel around until you find a towel and press it to your arm without any real strength. You're going in and out of consciousness, trying to keep yourself awake. The green towel is slowly turning red as the blood steadily seeps through the cloth.

You're starting to think you cut too deep.

You move the towel so a dry section is soaking the blood and try to keep slightly more pressure on it. Your vision is fading around the edges and you feel your body start to go slack. Knowing that's the opposite of what you need you sit up against the wall, taking a deep breath. You focus on the in and out of breathing, trying to keep yourself from blacking out. The towel on your arm is completely damp so you throw it into the shower and grab another off the floor. You press that to your arm, relieved the bleeding has slowed.

You're staring at nothing when a knock is heard on the bathroom door. It vibrates through the room and you jump, caught off guard. A few seconds pass before an annoyed voice is heard.

"Bro what the fuck are you doing? I need to talk to you."

Shit.  
SHIT.  
Holy fucking shit.  
This is bad. Next level bad.  
Dirk is outside the bathroom door and you're not 100% sure you locked it. You don't say anything, you don't know what to say. You don't know what to do.

"Bro? Are you alright?"

"Yeah." You croak out, shuttering afterwards. "Peachy fuckin' keen. Gimmie a sec."

After a few minutes you think he's gone. There's no sound but you didn't hear him leave the room either. Eyeing the door you see it is unlocked, that's no good. You get up to lock it but the moment you attempt to stand you tumble over, agitating the cuts on your way down. You yelp slightly before hissing in pain.

To your surprise and utmost dread the bathroom door opens. You try to hide your arm behind you but the blood everywhere kinda gives it away. Dirk is staring at you, at the blood, then at your arm. He gasps, covers his mouth with his hand and let's out a broken sob. All of the color is gone from his face, he looks like he's going to pass out or throw up.

"Oh no, no don't cry Dirk. Please don't cry, 'm fine." Your voice is weak and cracking slightly.

"You're not fine," he chokes, "You're not fine at all." You want to hug him, comfort him. Anything to get that terrified look off his face. But your arm is bleeding and you can't move, talk or think. You can't do anything but stare at him as red pools on the tile. You're getting lost in the drip, drip, dripping of blood and the sound of your ragged breathing.

After a few seconds he kneels down and helps you into a better sitting position. He takes an already stained towel and wraps it around your arm gently. You swear he's about to throw up. He holds the towel to your cuts, doing a much better job at stopping the bleeding than you did earlier. He's shaking, you can feel his hands trembling slightly. You should make him leave, this is way too much for a kid his age.

"Dirk," you say sloppily, but he doesn't reply. "Dirk s'okay. Go to your room, I got this."

"No." he says firmly, of course. "If you don't get some sort of help you're going to bleed out and i'm not going to let that happen."

You stop talking, deciding to gaze at the wall instead. This looks horrible. This whole situation is horrible. So unbelievably horrible. You're a serious piece of shit. You're supposed to be the older brother, the guardian, but Dirk takes care of you more than you do him. It's all so backwards. Why did you think this would work in the first place? Somehow you always fuck things up. You always make things worse, never better. Never. You don't deserve dirks pity, his love. He's so good to you and it's too much, he's too kind. You don't deserve any of the good things you have. All of the money, fame, success, you're not even sure why you have it. You hate it. You're an honest to god mess.

"Relax." Dirk says, bringing you out of your thoughts. You realize you're almost hyperventilating so you try to calm down. Breathe in and out. You end up slightly wheezing before coughing and dissolving back into panic. He removes the towel when the bleeding has stopped and looks around for some bandages. Eventually he finds a first aid kit and starts wrapping your arm. You can't remember the last time you actually bandaged an injury properly.

"Let's go to your bed." He says, standing. You don't reply so he helps you off the floor and lugs you into the next room. He sets you against the headboard and inspects your cut up fingers. "Your shirt is all bloody, you should change."

You don't think that's a good idea. Then he'll see the cuts on rest of your arm, your right arm, your chest, stomach, hips. Dark red lines litter your body and he's not ready to see that. You're not ready to show him that. But the look on his face says no isn't an option. Defeated, you attempt to remove your sweater. It turns out your body isn't agreeing with you and your arms just stay where they are.

"Can't." You whisper, making him lean closer so he can hear.

"You can't? Is it because there's more scars? I think I can handle it after seeing you in there."

"I can't move." You struggle to complete the sentence, voice wavering and cutting out. He understands and shifts so he can help you out of the sweater. Even though it's a process you're soon sitting on the bed, shirtless and completely exposed. You can feel him looking over your arms and chest, taking in every scar, bruise and burn marring your skin. He lets out another sob, covering his face for a few moments before throwing the stained shirt in the bathroom and looking through your closet for another.

After helping you into a loose black tshirt he makes you lay down, him settling right next to you. Your eyes close, a choppy sigh leaving your lips. His hands move to your face, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones. You can't open your eyes but you're not sure you want to. A hand moves to your forehead and then it's gone.

"Are you alright?" He asks and you nod. You're as okay as you can be given the circumstances. "Can I ask you something?" You nod again, still unable to bring yourself to do anything but lay here. "Was that a suicide attempt?" This time you shake your head, you really didn't want it to go that far. "Then what was it?"

"Relapse." You mutter hoarsely, "Tried to stop but I can't. Didn't work at all." Chuckling humorlessly you open your eyes slightly. When you look up at Dirk there are tears running down his cheeks, so much sadness and fear in his eyes. You honestly feel like complete and utter shit. Letting your eyes close again you feel his hand lightly move your hair out of your face.

"M'sorry kiddo. You don't deserve such a fucked up brother. I'm so sorry." You keep muttering sorry under your breath, unable to think of anything else. Dirk shushes you softly and you grow quiet.

"It's okay." He says, breath hitching before he can continue, "It's okay, you're a wonderful brother. You've made my life so much better. You've worked so hard so we can live the way we do. You don't need to apologize, it's okay. We're okay."

"It's real dumb though. I'm all fucked when I'm supposed to be put together because I'm the famous older brother." You pause, mind wandering. After a few minutes you start to drift until you feel dirks hand on your shoulder.

"What were you saying earlier?" Dirk says while rubbing your arm lightly. What were you saying?

"I don't remember."

"That's fine, is there something you want to talk about?"

"M'tired," you want to rest.

"I know, how about you tell me about your day."

"Mmm," you move slightly, happy you have some control of your body again. "Dunno, I had to run around the campus trying to round up actors." You start to doze off again but dirks hand is back on your shoulder, keeping you awake.

"What else?" He prompts.

You stay silent until you gain some courage and continue quietly, " Bro called me askin' to bail him outta jail."

"What did you do?"

"I bailed him out. Couldn't help it. He's just so good at manipulation and the things he said actually make sense. Maybe I DO owe him, he did give me a place to stay for 18 years. I have more money than I could ever use so the least I can do is make sure he doesn't rot away in jail. I'm sorry."

You take a moment to calm yourself down, in the middle of breathing you hear Dirk sigh,"It's okay. Why don't you go to bed, you'll feel better tomorrow."

* * *

When you realized your brother had been in the bathroom for 20 minutes you were alittle confused. You were hungry so you decided to go bother him, he was probably dying his hair or something. You went to his bathroom door and knocked, telling him you needed to talk. His reply was shaky and breathless, it concerned you. You stayed outside and listened until you heard him fall over. Deciding to let your curiosity take over you opened the door. You honestly did not expect what you saw.

Dave was slouched on the floor, blood smeared around him. He was trying to hide his arm from you but you could still see deep, deep cuts. They were worse than anything you've ever seen. Everything on the Internet and what you've seen on schoolmates looked extremely superficial compared to these. They defiantly needed stitches. You almost threw up, you were two seconds away from passing out but somehow you pulled through and helped stop his bleeding.

Your hands were covered in red by the time you got to bandaging him. A few times you had to stop yourself from reaching, the smell of blood was overpowering. You pulled him off the floor and into his bed, where he slouched against the headboard. You helped him change, seeing all of the scars and burns that littered his body. You couldn't stop yourself from crying. You had no idea he did this.

You lay down next to him, make him stay awake and talk until he was less out of it. It was hard to get through to him at first, he could hardly move, let alone speak. After awhile you got him to tell you about his day and Bro contacting him. He was starting to panic again so you decided to let him sleep.

You watch your brother fade away until he's unconscious and slowly rise off the bed. You creep into the living room and then into your own. Closing your door you collapse against it, hiding your face in your knees. After a few seconds you start sobbing, heart wrenching sobs fill the room and you are so, so glad the new apartment is soundproof. You're wheezing and gasping, not even trying to calm down. This is way too much.

You didn't expect him to do something like this. You knew he was extremely depressed but this is on a whole new level. This is straight up self deprecation, he hates himself so much. The amount of cuts littering his torso was outrageous, too many to count. His arms were even worse, there wasn't any unmarred skin, it was covered in open and healing wounds. You keep crying and crying, unable stop yourself. You're shutting down, trying desperately to process what just happened.

After crying your eyes out for a good hour you think you should throw away the razors. You stand and stumble back to your brothers bathroom, grabbing a rag to clean up the blood on the way. You walk in and close the door behind you. As you look around you need to keep yourself from breaking down again. You throw the bloody towel in the shower with the other one.

Next, you start wiping the puddles of blood off the white tile. You have to ring out the rag a few times, every time you see red draining down the sink you shutter. This is so disturbing. Slightly surreal. You can hardly process what you're actually doing, you're on autopilot. But you think that's probably for the best. Eventually the floor is clean so you throw away the broken razor and flush the blades down the toilet. Sick of seeing and smelling blood you wash your hands for longer than necessary and crawl into your brother's bed. You fall asleep to the sound of dave's shallow breaths and your own soft weeping.

* * *

You wake up to your phone vibrating in the bathroom. Opening your eyes you find Dirk curled up next to you, there are tear tracks on his face and it makes you remember the events of last night. Dirk found you. He found you in the middle of one of your worst relapses. You're honestly surprised he didn't call an ambulance, but you're extremely grateful. He probably knew that wouldn't have worked out very well. You can see the headlines now.

You feel weak, extremely weak and tired. Going to work today isn't exactly an option, you can hardly move so trying to boss people around just wouldn't work. They'd know something was up. Stiffly, you sit up and eventually stand, almost falling while doing so. You slowly stagger to the bathroom. The blood is absent from the floor, all the traces of the broken razor are gone. Dirk must have cleaned up last night, the thought alone makes you want to cry.

You grab your phone and walk into the other room. After some extreme contemplation you call in sick, texting the film crew and your assistant after getting off the phone with the producers. Grabbing a glass of water you look at the sun rising over the horizon. The sky is pink and yellow, early commuters already on the road. Sometimes you wonder what having a desk job would be like. It probably isn't as relaxing as you're imagining.

You turn off the phone, setting it on the side table once you're back in the bedroom. Highly uncomfortable in a short sleeved shirt you change into something with long sleeves before climbing back into bed. Frankly you feel alittle on edge whenever you see the state of your skin. It's hard to look at sometimes, especially right after you sliced yourself open.

Dirk looks so small, so sad. You pull up the blankets and try to fall back asleep. You really are quite exhausted, that tends to happen when you lose a large quantity of blood. Eating something is probably necessary before you can even start to function normally. After a few minutes you open your eyes to look at your brother. You feel so bad for making him go through this. He's just a kid, he doesn't need to see what he saw last night. Adults would have a hard time stomaching that, so a 17 year old with pre-existing emotional issues is not well equipped to deal with this type of situation.

You move alittle closer, wanting to see if he's awake. It's likely, you weren't exactly quiet or stealthy when you got up. In the middle of your shifting his eyes crack open. You stare at each other for a few seconds before he latches onto you. His arms are around your neck as he shoves his face in your shoulder. Quite frankly you're relieved by the reaction so you wrap your arms around his back and pull him close.

After a few minutes you feel Dirk trembling slightly. His shoulders are shaking while he cries into your neck. One of your hands move to his head, fingers running through product coated hair. He sounds devastated, you figure he probably is. You let your eyes close, whispering 'shh,' and 'it's okay," into his hair. Eventually both of you grow quiet, Dirk calmly resting against you as you become more and more tired.

You feel him wiggle alittle closer, a small sigh leaving him. Your hand falls to the mattress, the other still wrapped around his back loosely. It's weird but you're content to lay like this with Dirk attached to you. It makes you feel wanted, loved. He's so warm and real, you don't remember the last time he was so willingly affectionate. He hugs you, let's you comfort him, but never this close. Never laying every everything on the table like this.

Dirk moves his arms somewhat, face nuzzling into your jaw. This just got slightly more intimate than you're comfortable with, but you can't bring yourself to say anything. He's probably just upset about what happened so you let him cuddle you. It's the least you can do considering the circumstances. His fingers grip the back of your shirt, twitching every time he shudders. Eventually, a small voice is heard

"Bro?"

"Hm?"

"Are you going to work?"

"Probably not."

"Cool."

You lapse into silence again, it's completely quiet. The new apartment always seems slightly stiff, cold, too proper. The lack of neighbors talking and fighting is alittle bizarre. It's been a weird, awkward transition but you can tell Dirk likes it. Or he did like it, before he found you last night. Now you're sure he's really upset.

Slowly, you start to drift off. You grow more and more drowsy until you can't keep your eyes open. You think maybe going back to bed is a good idea, you're not ready to face the world quite yet. You slip into unconsciousness, hearing Dirk mutter goodnight before everything fades to black.

* * *

You wake up with Dirk about laying on top of you. His arms are curled to his chest while his face is pressed into your shoulder. One of your arms is still trapped under him and the lack of blood flow makes the limb feel invisible. You try to ignore it but you can't, it's way too annoying. After a few minutes you need to move. With your free hand you pat dirks face until his eyes open.

"My arm is asleep." You say and he wiggles off. You manually move it into a place that allows blood to return. Even though he changed positions he still stays close to you. You're kinda starting to get uncomfortable. Both with your position and the fact your little brother is attached to you like an affectionate leech. He's being incredibly intimate and you don't know what to make of it. You don't even know what you can say, so you don't say anything.

"Hey bro?" Dirk breaks the silence with a quiet question.

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave." With every soft word you can feel his breath tickle your throat.

"I'm not going to work."

"That's not what I mean." His voice is small and tight, you can tell he's desperately trying to maintain composure. But you can't have that, he needs to talk about this. He always processes things best while talking.

"Elaborate?" You prompt gently but he stays quiet for a few minutes. Eventually he takes a deep breath and continues.

"I'm, um- shit," he shudders before starting again, "I'm scared that if you continue in this manner something bad is going to happen."

"Oh kid." Your heart just shattered into a million fragmented pieces. You go from your previous limp position to holding him tightly.

"I can't lose you." His voice cracks before his fingers go back to gripping your shirt. He's still shaking slightly.

"Dirk, oh my god." If you felt like scum earlier it just multiplied exponentially. You're causing your little brother so much pain and it's all your fault. 100% your fault, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"There was a shitton of blood bro. If I didn't help you could have died easily." While his voice is low it carries so much emotion that he could be yelling and it would have less of an impact.

"I'm sorry." You don't know what to do, apologizing is all you trust yourself to say. This is so shitty. You're so shitty.

"Please try to stop." It wasn't a simple request, he's basically begging.

"I will."

"Promise?" He looks up at you, makes eye contact and waits for an answer.

"I'll stop. I promise." You stare at him and try to ooze sincerity. Because you're going to try, you really will try. He seems to accept it but still doesn't look away.

"If shit gets bad or if bro contacts you or something please come talk to me." His orange eyes seem to be peering right into your soul, you can see the traces of gold that resembles Bro and your own crimson laced in the bright amber. With him literally two inches away from your face you can't do much but stay in one place. He looks so worried. "I won't judge you, you know that."

"Yeah, I know."

"I don't want you to just stop and then suppress all your emotions till something triggers you and it all goes down the drain. I'm pretty sure both of us know you won't be able to stop without help. From the looks of it you've been doing this for years."

"Right."

"How long has it been?" He inquires and you huff. Now's the time to get everything out in the open. You know if you don't say anything now you you'll most likely shut down and relapse in a few weeks. Maybe he won't judge you, maybe he'll understand.

"I started when i was a teenager but it was only on and off until i eventually stopped. I slipped up like two years ago and i guess i let it get out of control." You let out a small laugh but he doesn't seem to find it funny.

"You guess? Bro this is more than out of control."

"I know," you laugh again but it ends up sounding pained, "I don't know why i let it get like this." your voice cracks and he moves away slightly, again resting on your shoulder. "It's really bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." His voice is calm but you know for a fact that he is nowhere near that. You're envious of his ability to control his emotions. "You're going to be okay though. I'll help and you'll be alright."

"What?" For some reason that caught you off guard. You've never thought about this, about actually succeeding in quitting. Getting better. Honestly it didn't seem possible for a very long time, it still doesn't. But maybe, maybe with dirks help you can do it. This is your only chance.

"I'll help" he murmurs and you almost choke, completely unsure of why you had such a reaction. Apparently dirk understands more than you because a hand slowly caresses your cheek and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Just let me help you, okay?" You nod and oddly find yourself unable to talk. You're panicking but somehow it's not that bad because dirk keeps running light fingers over your cheekbones and down your jaw, whispering 'shh' near silently.

You've never had someone support you like this. Everyone just uses you and moves on, they don't care about your emotions. Your wellbeing doesn't matter to anyone, not to the people who you work for, not to the people you work with, and certainly not to Bro. Some of them try to pretend to care, sometimes you think they might, but that doesn't make sense. Why would they care? Dirk is the only one that cares, you know that because he's here, directing all of his attention to making you feel better. He's trying to calm you down and make you happy and it's too much.

You gasp involuntarily and a tremor runs through your body. Your throat is constricted and you're struggling to breathe but dirk doesn't stop his comforting motions. He moves from your cheek to your neck, letting a warm hand settle there. "Breathe bro, you're okay." You do just that, breathe in and out. In and out. Trying to regain control and keep your head straight. Minutes pass of you calming until you can breathe somewhat normally. Before everything becomes still and quiet dirk mutters one last time, "You're going to be okay."


	16. Chapter 16

I've decided to stop beating myself up over the cringe worthy shit I'm writing. Other people have written worse, right?

* * *

It's really fucking hot.

It comes along with living in california but _holy_ _shit-_ this heat is unreal. It's nearing 96 degrees and the set is even hotter. This isn't the ideal time to be wearing a thick black sweater but that's what you're wearing right now. There's no going back so you figure you just have to suck it up and deal with it. And that's what you've been doing for the past 4 hours, but you don't know how much longer you can actually stand in this heat.

You look around for the shade of a tree, any shadow of some sort. There's no trees and the only relatively cool place is the building behind you. You decide to see if you can wait alittle longer, continuing to watch the actors stumble around the set. Suddenly, your head swims. You maintain composure but know that's a warning sign. You move to walk to the building but before you take a step your vision goes black and you collapse into a pile of disheveled strider on the asphalt.

* * *

"D-Dave?!" Alex about yells.

"Holy shit, holy shit. What just happened? What do we do?" Amber runs over to Dave's unconscious body with others following.

"He fainted. We should get him inside, he'll overheat out here." Sam says calmly, crouching next to him.

"Oh my god, oh lord. Holy shit." Amber starts pacing back and forth.

"Do you think we can lift him?" Alex asks, trying to be helpful.

"Get that really buff dude from lighting." Cole suggests.

"Is he okay? Should I call 911?" Amber is hysterical, close to tears at this point.

"Shut up." Alex snaps and she lets out an annoyed huff.

"That will take too long, Cole try to lift him." Sam instructs.

"Okay, if you say so, but i don't think i'm strong enough" Cole sighs and moves to pick up Dave. Once in his arms he's obviously shocked at how light the director is. "What the actual fuck dude, he's as light as a highschool girl. Jesus christ. I bet amber could lift him, maybe even alex."

"Wait, why am i after her in that list?"

"Because you're a fucking pussy mate. Nobody here is shorter or smaller than you. Not even the 15 year old."

"Focus guys, let's get him inside."

They move to the building, sitting in the hallway next to the door. Amber runs in after with Dave's phone and shades in hand. "He dropped these, maybe we should call his brother."

"He has a passcode, without that we can't use the phone."

"I know the last three letters…" Alex mumbles awkwardly.

"That's really weird! How do you even know that?" Amber asks, moving to fan dave in an attempt to cool him off after placing the shades back on his face.

"I'm right next to him alot and sometimes you can't help but watch, y'know?" Alex looks uncomfortable, refusing to make any eye contact.

"What are they?"

"413"

"So that makes our life easier." Sam starts to work on getting into the phone while everyone stands around anxiously. "Guys I got it on the first try."

"What was it?"

"0413. Anyways, do you guys remember his brothers name?"

"Dirk or something like that."

"Right, I'm calling him now."

* * *

"Sup bro." you answer after looking at the caller ID.

"Oh, um, hello. I'm not your brother…obviously." He laughs awkwardly but continues when you don't reply. You're seriously questioning why a random person has your brothers phone. "I'm sam, an actor he works with. Your brother passed out."

"What the fuck." you stand from the computer chair and grab your keys. Completely abandoning the video game you frantically collect items from around room, "Don't you think you should have started with that."

"I'm sorry. What should we do?" You pull on your shoes and quickly make your way to the elevator and down to the parking lot.

"What are you doing now? Where is he?"

"We're in the hallway. We tried to wake him up a few times but he's down for the count. It's actually starting to get concerning. What should we do?

"Just carry him to his office if you can. I'm driving now so I have to go. I'll be there soon, have someone out front to get me." you start the car and speed off to the direction of dave's workplace.

* * *

"He told me to carry dave to his office. Apparently he's coming here so someone should go outside to pick him up. Alex, you're the most acquainted so you should go wait."

"But-" he starts complaining but stops quickly, remembering the past comments made by his coworkers. "Okay."

"That's the spirit! Now get going, he's literally just a kid. You'll be fine. We'll get this one to the office." Alex walks to the front and cole picks up the still unresponsive strider. The small group walks to the office, having to cut through busy hallways. After some time they're outside of the office. Apprehensively they open the door, only after some fighting of who would actually physically open it. Cole sets him on the couch and everyone stands around awkwardly. They decide to leave sam in the room while everyone else waits outside.

Alex is standing out in the heat, waiting for dave's brother next to the gate. He's starting to get pretty nervous, his last meeting with dirk wasn't fun to say the least. He tries to remember Sam's words, remember that he's 8 years younger than him. A few minutes later a nice car speeds into the parking lot. After parking dirk jumps out, sun reflecting off his anime shades. He walks over to alex with no identifiable expression.

"Let's go, tell me what happened." Alex nods and leads him to the office.

"We were out on the outdoor set when he just collapsed. He didn't say anything before he fainted, but he was very unsteady the entire time we were outside."

"How long were you outside?"

"About 4 hours, going on 5 when he passed out."

"Wonderful."

Outside of the office dirk looks over amber and cole, obviously judging them. They squirm under the scrutiny. Next, he glances at the door and enters without a word. In the office he turns his attention to his brother, not even acknowledging sam who jumps up from his place on the floor and quickly absconds. The door locks, the blinds are drawn and everyone outside lets out a collective sigh. They walk to a nearby break room, glad the situation is out of their hands.

* * *

You can't believe Dave passed out, but at the same time it's hardly surprising. Something like this was bound to happen eventually. You pull out the large water bottle you brought along and a rag. Taking off his shades you wet said rag, running it across his flushed face. You let him rest awhile, knowing full well you should be trying to make him wake up. A part of you just wants him to get some sort of down time.

Eventually you grab one of dave's too warm hands and pat it until he starts to come around. Then you move to his face, lightly patting until he looks up at you. He doesn't move to sit up so you wet the towel again and run it over his forehead. You make him drink, which he does willingly, chugging about half the bottle in one go. It looks like he wants to ask questions but doesn't have the strength. You decide to provide some answers.

"You passed out." You tell him and he groans, "your actors called me because they couldn't figure out what to do." He looks at the ceiling with a less than amused expression.

"Anyways, take off your shirt real fast." He doesn't look too into that idea. "C'mon bro you must still be overheating. Just take off your shirt for a bit, I brought you a wife beater."

Begrudgingly he struggles to pull off the sweater and puts on the pink wife beater. You can tell it helped instantly when he lets out some sort of content noise and rolls over to lay on his stomach. You bet it feels a hell of a lot better, he already seems to be breathing easier.

You slip onto the couch, him still laying across it only now his head is resting in your lap. You take the rag and run it across the back of his neck causing him to let out a relieved sigh. The other hand moves to lightly trace over the scars running down his shoulders and arms. It seems to calm him, you would have thought otherwise but you think it makes him feel like you're not disgusted or mad at him. That you're going to stay even if the majority of his skin is marred.

You're beginning to learn he desperately craves physical contact, you honest wouldn't have guessed until recently. He shies away from nearly everyone when they stand or get too close to him. You figured he just doesn't like people touching him. Which is true, he doesn't like strangers getting anywhere near him, so you never really tried to be overly affectionate. But as it turns out, he _really_ seems to enjoy you softly running your hands over his face and neck, down his arms and back. While he moves away from others he tries to get closer to you.

Sometimes he'll let you push up his sleeve and feel the injuries you hardly see. Then, when it gets really bad and he no longer has control of himself, you find yourself nuzzling into the column of his neck and shoulder, letting your hands wander over his arms and chest. And you know- you fucking know what you're doing is creepy. Creepy and hella wrong but you don't care. Because it helps, it's one of the only things that actually helps. He's calmed by simple intimate gestures, they're not even sexual. It's just light cuddles, fluff that would make a nun blush.

You let your hands move across him, caressing all the places you've learned calms him down. Due to the fact he was sexually abused by both Bro and random strangers you understand any type of wrong movement could trigger him in this situation. While you're absentmindedly rubbing his wrist your fingers accidentally brush against a healing wound alittle too harshly. He lets out a pained hiss so you draw back quickly. When you pull away remnants of dried blood are on your fingertips.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't realize." He nods, apparently still too exhausted to talk. Deciding to leave the lower arms alone you go back to delicately touching the red scars everywhere else. Minutes pass while he starts to cool down and build up strength. You sit, keeping his hair out of his face as you inspect the office. It's fancy, kinda stereotypical. A large dark maple desk with a plush office chair sits in one corner. Piles of paper litter both the desk and the floor, some even piling up on one of the arm chairs that you recognize from the previous apartment. Theres the couch you're both on, a lamp and plant on one side and a side table on the other.

Looking at the computer you see a picture of you when you were a kid taped to it. You're in a pikachu shirt, holding a rainbow dash doll, with blood smeared on your face and missing your two front teeth. You remember you fell down the stairs right after bro warned you about them. You were so excited, he got you the new limited edition sparkly rainbow dash figure. You wanted to put it with your other toys so you were speeding up the stairs alittle too quickly. You proceeded to slip, fall, and knock out your two front teeth. Bro thought it was hilarious but you found no humor in the situation. Although now you can't help but smile at both the memory and the the picture. He's such a sap, of course he would keep something like that.

Once you're sure he can manage you force him to sit up and drink more water. He's starting to look better, he's less flushed and no longer emitting heat. Although you can tell he's still miserable you think he can probably walk. "Want to go home?" You ask once the bottle is empty.

"I can't."

"Are you saying you're going back outside?"

"Well yeah," he says bluntly, "I have to. There is a deadline soon and nothing is anywhere near being finished."

"But you just fucking fainted."

"That doesn't really matter to the higher ups. They'll just be like, 'that's too bad, work it out' if I tell them about this. I really need to finish this shit."

"I'm staying with you then."

"If you insist."

"I swear you're going to work yourself to death."

"I've made it this far."

"Uh huh." You give him a look that plainly reads, 'are you fucking serious'.

"Don't make that face, jesus."

"I'm sorry, i'm just constantly amazed by the amount of bullshit you spew."

"You're a rude little shit."

"Do you hear yourself? Yeah, you've made it this far, but by what means? Do you really think this is acceptable? That your self-abusive behavior is normal? People, believe it or not, don't go and stand in the sun 20 minutes after passing out from heat exhaustion!" You're almost yelling so you try to tone it down.

"Dirk you're taking everything way too seriously."

"You're not taking it seriously enough. You need rest."

"I think we both know this conversation will go nowhere. Could you get me some more water? A break room with a sink is down the hall to your left, the door should be open."

"Fine."

* * *

Everyone is sitting around the card table in the breakroom. Two of them have coffee in their hands and amber is nibbling on the last doughnut. Everyone was fighting over it until she stole it and took a huge bite. Nobody bothered after that, knowing when to pick their battles.

"So alex, are you jealous of dave's little brother?" Sam says after they've all calmed down. The recent events freaked them out, amber most of all.

"Why would I be?" Alex says, inspecting his coffee like it's a piece of modern art.

"Well the kid and dave are really close from what i've seen. Like… really, really close." Sam replies, trying to be alittle malicious. "Don't you feel some thorns of jealousy?"

"I've told you before it's not like that. He's the director of oscar winning films. Not to mention he's 5 years older than me, 100x more attractive and would never even think about liking someone like me. Let's also not forget the fact that he literally hates my fucking guts." Alex mumbles, looking defeated.

"That wasn't denial though, to be honest it sounded like a confession." Amber comments happily.

"Can we talk about something else?"

That's when someone enters the room. They look and see none other than Dirk Strider standing in the doorway. Instantly, they know he heard everything. Alex goes about three shades whiter while everyone else watches in horror. Dirk walks over to the sink, filling the bottle with water. Once it's full he turns his attention to the group, after a few minutes of silence he finally talks.

"Okay, to state it bluntly, I hate all of you." Nobody says a word, you could hear a pin drop. "For months, fucking months, I have had to listen to my brother gripe and complain about you and your little team's antics. And I'm fucking done. Done."

"How hard is your job? On a scale of one to fucking ten how hard do you think your job actually is?" Nobody says anything so Dirk adds another element. He's not playing around. "C'mon, let's all participate or i'll tell bro all about his assistants little crush. It'll be the icing on the fucking cake i swear."

"Maybe around a 5?" Sam tries to reason, knowing this secret getting out is the end of alex's job. He feels a little guilty for bringing it up so he tries to take on the angry strider. He is the most equipped for it, being the most eloquent and intelligent of the group. What he doesn't know is that Dirk is far smarter than him.

"Okay, yes, lets go off that. So you think you laying around all day until dave has to _personally_ drag you to the set where you proceed to do a piss poor acting performance is a 5 on the work scale?" Under pressure they all hesitantly nod. Even though his expression is neutral he's basically emitting anger.

"All i'm going to say is that if any of you were to work under someone else you would have been fired long ago. My brother is far too kind to say anything, he cares about you guys and what you think of him. But I don't, I don't give two shits about you or what you think of me. So i'll tell you this now, shape up and don't fuck up. Don't fuck up because if you think dave is hard to deal with when he's mad, get ready, you haven't seen the half of it." Dirk walks past them and out the room, leaving the group speechless.

"That kid is a bit scary for such a cute lil' thing, isn't he?" amber mumbles after a few moments of tense silence.

"He's crazy." Cole exclaims through gritted teeth.

"He has a point." Alex sighs and everyone stops. They gape at him in collective disbelief as he continues, "We hardly do anything, he's been holding your hands through every scene for awhile now. He's basically doing editings job because the whole department gets drunk and high instead of coming into work. Lighting barely keeps itself together, without dave's constant reminders everything would be pitch black. I'm also 99% sure he does a few girls makeup for most of the scenes. The camera crew is basically the only well functioning section. He does almost everything around here, it's no surprise he crashed eventually."

"You can't blame this on us."

"I'm not, I think more than anyone I know it's wrong to place blame on others. Quite frankly i'm the worst out of the lot, I'm supposed to make his life easier but i just give him more grief. I can't even get his coffee right, it's been months and I can't figure it out! And every time he says 'It's fine, don't worry about it', with this reassuring lopsided smirk I feel like I failed even more. Maybe I should quit."

"Hey, dude, chill. Don't quit." They hear a familiar voice and everyone freezes. Dave is standing with dirk by his side. His expression looks almost… sad. "I mean you can if you want but i kinda need everyone here. I honestly couldn't care less about the coffee dude. It's like a nice little surprise every morning. It's chill." Alex just nods and walks out the room without a word.

"Everyone, don't listen to dirk. He's just being cranky." Dave announces, ignoring his assistants sudden departure.

"Are you leaving?" Amber asks.

"No, we're going back outside."

"You can't be serious."

"He is 100% serious." Dirk grumbles unhappily.

"But isn't that dangerous? It's still really hot out and you were unconscious for a rather long time." Sam reasons, looking unhappy aswell.

"I'm fine, don't worry. I just got alittle hot and forgot to eat, it's a bad combo. But I'm good now, so we should get to it. The faster we get this shit done the better." They shrug and start walking into the hall when dirk gets to dave he pulls him aside. After saying something dave tells the others to go on ahead while he talks with his brother.

* * *

You're sitting in a bathroom stall, trying to calm down from the earlier conversation with dave. You've never been more humiliated. He had to walk in right as you were talking about quitting. You don't even know what you were thinking, this is your dream job! Even if you're just an assistant/coffee boy you're working with your idol. You would never quit. It's not even an option. Suddenly, the door opens and a pair of footsteps are heard, a few seconds later it locks. You grows still, waiting to see what happens. When you hear dirk's voice your heart skips a beat.

"You need to stop this shit." Dirk says with no reply. "You literally spew bullshit 24/7. I know I said it earlier but really, it's like every other word out of your mouth is a lie."

"I'm not lying kid." Dave mumbles. His voice seems different than normal, it sounds like he's no longer trying to act chipper. It finally occurs to you that he dropped his mask.

"Everyone else is dumb as hell but don't expect me to take this shit. You saying 'I got hot and forgot to eat' isn't telling the truth. It's telling 1% of the story and hoping people accept it and don't try to look under the surface." Dirk has this really odd tone that's right in the middle of anger and caring.

"You take everything so fucking seriously." Dave mutters softly, a small cough heard shortly after.

"So you think everything is cool then, nothing needs to change." It's quiet for a few long seconds before he answers.

"It's rough, i guess. Having everyone help and cooperate alittle more would be really nice but i don't want to overwork them or anything. I don't know, I mean- why make other people shoulder the burdens of my film?"

"Bro. That's what you hired them for. I understand you care about them but you need to think of yourself for once. Literally, for once in your fucking life, stop trying to do shit for other people. You are overworking nobody but yourself. Have you ever heard of someone making a feature film by themself? It's not possible. Like seriously, you have people around you doing nothing. Literally sitting around doing nothing. What the fuck is up with that? You're on thin ice as it is and you think more of this shit is going to help? Tell them to do their job! Do you want me to? I'll do it, oh you fucking know I will. I'm full of strongly worded insults that half of them wouldn't understand."

"Calm down," Dave sighs, "you're sounding rather murderous."

"But you get it, don't you? You can't continue like this, you need to change something."

"You know that's easier said than done." Dave replies quietly, sadly. You didn't think he could sound so utterly defeated. You knew the passive ironic face was a front but you didn't realize it was hiding so much.

"And that's why i'm here to help." Dirk about whispers, his voice warm and calm, causing you to go bright red. This definitely isn't a moment meant for your ears but you just pray you don't get caught. Because this is a prime opportunity that no proper fanboy would pass up. This honestly makes you feel like the only person (other than his brother) that knows any actual information about Dave. You could sell this knowledge to the paparazzi but you would never do that.

The duo grows quiet, every now and then you hear a light sigh but nothing is said. Slowly, very slowly, you creep forward until you can see their reflection on a mirror from the crack in your stall. They seem to be hugging. It's not just a normal hug though, they're literally clinging onto one another. Eventually they detach from each other, unlock the door and leave the room, saying something about going to the outdoor set on their way out.

You let out a tense breath and laugh nervously. That was close, that whole situation was risky. As you wait to make sure they're out of the hall so they won't see you leave the bathroom you vow to try and change too. You're going to be a proper assistant, you'll tell people to get to work if dave is too nice to do it himself. You decide you're going to start doing the heavy lifting so Dave no longer had to get his hands dirty.


	17. Chapter 17

they needed a break  
You can skip this chapter

* * *

You got off work early today, everyone was being oddly cooperative and your assistant even got the right type of coffee. You ended up praising him, everyone staring in awe as you did so. You try not to give him too much attention, you're starting to get the impression he likes you alittle too much. Once you figured that out everything else started falling into place. The weird mannerisms, awkward offhand comments and refusal to make eye contact. You were honestly just impressed that he got something right for once.

So you're feeling pretty good, sitting in traffic on your way back home. As you start thinking you realize you hardly have any groceries. Maybe you should go to the store. The chances of you getting swarmed are high but you don't want to send Dirk out on his own. Especially in a town he doesn't know. You decided to risk it and buy groceries, you just hope nobody recognizes you. You turn on the blinker, change lanes and make your way to Walmart.

After a long, tedious drive you pull into the parking lot, finding the nearest space with ease. After turning everything off you jump out and shuffle into the store quickly. Now that you're here you think it's only appropriate to go all out and buy as much as you possibly can. You grab a cart and walk to the frozen food isle. As soon as you find the pizzas you grab a large quantity and throw them into the cart. This is followed by other various frozen foods that you think dirk will probably like. Who knows.

Next you grab a few packs of Apple juice boxes, a shitton of orange soda and some stupid orange Mountain Dew Dirk has been yelling about. As you're going through the chips you think maybe you should buy something that isn't junk food. For some reason you just can't imagine Dirk eating a salad. You laugh at the mental image but are brought to attention by someone clearing their throat.

You look and see two teenagers, the girl basically hiding behind the boy. You're guessing they're about dirks age, if not older. With the way the girl is glued to him you're betting they're in a relationship. You stare at them for a few seconds before the boy starts talking.

"Uh sorry, but… Are you Dave strider?" He asks awkwardly. On any other day you would have had to push away your annoyed thoughts, but not today. Because for once everything is kinda alright and these are only two young kids, not fifty hungry photographers. So you just put on a friendly front and address them.

"Yeah, sup?" You reply and the girl basically sprints out from behind her boyfriend. Ah, so she's the real fan.

"Oh wow!" She beams and you can't help but laugh to yourself. This reminds you of when only a few people knew of your films. "I'm a huge fan, this is insane! Wow..." She lets out a long breath before looking at you again.

"Can I have your autograph, maybe take a picture with you?"

"Yeah, sure. You got a pen?" She nods happily and pulls out what looks like a sketchbook. She flips to the back of the cover and hands you a red sharpie. You sign it quickly, looking around to make sure no other people were coming. Next she hands her boyfriend her phone and stands next to you. You're glad she doesn't try to touch you, you found that to be quite polite. He hands her the phone and she about squeals.

"Thank you so much! I just have to say the way you subtly slip subliminal messages and propaganda in your films is amazing. Nobody believes me when I tell them about it."

"Yeah, thanks. Just keep in mind the moment you think you've figured it out is when you've missed the point entirely." You have no idea what you just said. It was nonsense. It literally meant nothing. You honestly just spout shit and see how much people will believe. It's become a game. A game you keep winning because she's gaping at you like you're a holy man.

You grab a few bags of Doritos and other various chips. They're still just watching you. Ugh. After setting that in your cart you look at the nearby cookies and cakes. While piling those into the cart you think of something, "Hey, could you guys do me a solid?"

"Yeah!" The girl responds enthusiastically and her boyfriend nods. He has an awestruck look on his face and still hasn't said a word.

"Can you wait like 30 minutes before telling people you met me? I kinda want to buy this without 50 paparazzi swarming me."

"Oh, of course. Thanks again! Who would have guessed I would meet someone like you. Especially at Walmart!"

You smile lightly and her face turns bright red. Then you quickly abscond to find bread, cereal, yogurt, basic essentials like that. You come across fresh sushi and decide to snatch it. Once the cart is full you stand in line for one of the many cashiers. You load the food onto the conveyor belt and then wait for everything to be rung up. It's only when you pay that the worker fully looks at you. He inspects you absently with red, glazed eyes and mumbles, "have a good day."

You about sprint out to the car, loading the bags into the back. After putting the cart away you climb into the vehicle and speed off. That was oddly successful. Maybe today really is a good day. The series of events defiantly points in that direction. You get caught up in traffic but that's hardly surprising. When you finally pull into the apartment you realize you won't be able to carry all of this. Multiple trips will be necessary, at least there's the luxury of an elevator.

You grab as many bags as you can without looking like a complete idiot, stagger into the building, then to the elevator. You press the appropriate level and wait as you climb up to your floor. The door chimes before opening and you go straight to the apartment. You struggle to open it but soon you're piling bags of groceries onto the kitchen counter.

The lights are off, it's eerily silent and you're getting the impression that dirk is asleep. The only time multiple tvs aren't on is when he's passed out. You wanted his help with the bags but you guess it's all up to you. You were expecting this anyways. Sighing you leave and repeat the process until all of the various things are out of the car.

You start putting items away instantly, wanting to get it over with. You end up throwing away quite a bit of old takeout and pizza. Some of it was starting to look pretty gross. You really should pay more attention to things like this. You're just so busy, you hardly look in the fridge in the first place. Once everything is in its respective location you stretch and start a pot of coffee. You can never have too much caffeine.

When that begins brewing you retrieve a few piles of documents from your room, stacking them up on the coffee table. After you find a hard surface to write on you get to work. Half of this is regular paperwork so you read through things, signing them while writing notes to remember on a separate sheet of paper. You're in the middle of reading about lighting mistakes when the coffee maker beeps. Thank god.

You get up and grab one of the largest mugs out of the cupboard. After pouring about half of the pot into the cup you add far too much cream and sugar. Dirk always cracks jokes about how you make your coffee. He just doesn't understand the true appeal of overwhelming sugar. You take a test sip and hum happily. It's perfect. You carefully shuffle back to the papers, trying not to spill the already overflowing cup.

You sit down and hear some type of noise from the other room. Maybe Dirk woke up, you're surprised the door opening so many times earlier didn't wake him. The next paper you come across is a part of the manuscript you have to okay. This honestly should have been done months ago. By now this particular scene is already filmed. You take a large drink and set the coffee aside to start reading. As you go through the document you realize nothing was changed. This is exactly what you sent in. There was supposed to be editing but apparently that never happened. You sigh and set that in the tiny 'done' pile.

Easily you become lost in paperwork, sipping on your coffee every now and then. You hear the shower turn on, confirming your suspicions of Dirk being awake. A few minutes pass until you hear what sounds like… singing. It occurs to you that he's singing in the shower, that's so damn cute. He's going to be so embarrassed when he realizes you're home. You decide to not mention it, you don't want to make him upset.

The pile of papers slowly but surely gets organized and dwindles away. It doesn't take long for the shower to turn off and a hair dryer to turn on. You don't know why he bothers doing his hair if he's not going anywhere. You guess it doesn't really matter. The letter you're attempting to read has sloppy handwriting, making it incredibly hard to decipher. It's quite a long note so you figure it's important. About halfway through you hear dirks door open followed by a yelp. Looking up you see him staring at you, wide eyed.

"Hey kid, I bought food."

"How long have you been home?" He looks incredibly caught off guard. You feel bad for scaring him.

"About two hours, got off work early." You reply happily.

"So you decide to do paperwork with the time off?" He says skeptically. He's inspecting you with this weird, exasperated expression.

"It's now or never." You shrug lightly and he takes a deep breath.

"Yeah." He goes into the kitchen, probably to get something to eat. Once he actually looks in the fridge he calls out to you, "damn, you really did buy food. Where did you go?"

"Walmart." He looks back at you in sheer disbelief.

"What? Are you even aware of who you are? I'm pretty sure most celebrities don't go to Walmart and buy a shitton of food like its no big deal."

"It's not a big deal though. We needed groceries and now we have them. Nothing happened and now you have sushi. Why are you complaining?"

"Honestly I don't understand how you function. So nothing happened, no impromptu interviews or photo shoots?"

"No, two teenagers approached me but they were nice. You can probably find the picture online."

Dirk huffs, apparently giving up. He collects some food, from what you can see its cereal. Next he makes his own coffee and yawns dramatically. He sits next to you, turns on the tv and starts eating. You decide now is a good time to stop going through the documents. You grab the papers and move them back to your room.

When you come back to the futon Dirk has his laptop where the papers were. He's scrolling through various websites as he consumes the bowl of fruit loops. Plopping down you rest a cheek on your hand. You watch a weather lady talk about an impending thunderstorm that will last until late at night. The program switches to a commercial about abandoned animals and Dirk changes the station. Neither of you can handle looking at the abused animals. Last time you ended up donating thousands of dollars to multiple random animal shelters.

"What're you doing?" You ask out of pure boredom.

"Going through shit people have tweeted me."

"Oh yeah, you're famous on the internet. I forget about that sometimes."

"I wouldn't call it fame."

"Then what do you call having an obscene amount of followers on every social media site."

"I'm popular."

"Isn't that the same thing."

"No. You're famous, a household name. People know about me but not on the same level."

"Okay then."

"How was work?"

"It was good, fortunately nobody came in fucked up so we got a decent amount of shit done. It was oddly productive. All of the editing staff came in, that hasn't happened in weeks. My assistant even got my coffee right, it was the first morning I haven't had to choke down some sort of espresso."

"He gave you espresso?" Dirk downright scoffs.

"Yeah, I don't know where he got the idea i like it but i guess he did. Maybe he goes on those weird forums full of people who post theories about my personal life. Sounds like something they would say."

"That's really accurate." It slips into silence, you hear thunder boom from outside of the apartment. Looking out the window you can see dark storm clouds and smog, you end up staring at it absentmindedly. It was clear when you went out, that's a sudden change. The weather lady was right. Dirk eventually breaks the peaceful silence.

"Did you know people think you have like 50 private estates?"

"The most of an estate i have is the apartment and i don't even own it."

"That's what I thought. Look at this."

He shows you the picture of you and the girl in the chip aisle of Walmart. The girl honestly looks overjoyed. You see the post description says, 'met dave strider at walmart today and he smiled at me. suck it bitches' along with a few emojis. You're glad you could make someone happy. But you still chuckle sadly as you stare at the image, you look so fucking horrible. So bad. You knew it wouldn't be flattering photo but god, sometimes you forget just how much you actually hate how you look. You try to stay away from articles and stories that are bound to have your image and avoid mirrors at all cost.

You're the only strider who's actually unattractive. Bro is both charismatic and rugged. He has a quality that draws people in, he's intoxicating. Dirk is what you would describe as beautiful, his face is classic and symmetrical. His incredible intelligence and loving personality really seals the deal. And then there's you, the pale red eyed strider with no real redeeming qualities. You don't understand how you got dealt such a bad hand.

"I look like a moron." You comment, only joking slightly. Dirk frowns and you realize that was the wrong thing to say. You really need to control what comes out of your mouth.

"No." He says with a dash of confusion and concern.

"I was kidding." You try to convince him but he's not buying it. Why do you keep doing shit like this? Somehow you always make it about you.

"I don't think you were." He counters softly. You can practically see him planning his next move.

"I swear, every time we talk it ends up dissolving into a discussion on how I should respect myself more. For once- please, can we just not?" You sound strained and exhausted, still desperately trying to maintain your good mood. Dirk nods once and goes back to the computer. You easily daze off to the repetitive clicking of keys and rain falling onto the porch and windows, eventually falling into a light sleep.

When you wake up you're laying on the futon with no sign of your brother being around. You sit up groggily, looking out the window. It's significantly later in the day and you're actually hungry for once. You pull out your phone and decide to go with Mexican food for tonight's meal. You place your order and 45 minutes later you're paying a delivery boy. You put the food on the table before walking to dirk's room, standing in his doorway.

* * *

"I brought burritos for dinner. They're from the place you like." Bro tells you and you smile. That's exactly what you wanted for dinner.

"Fuck yeah. Before we eat I wanna show you something though." You stand up and grab your anime shades from the table. You hand them to him and tell him to put them on.

"Alright so it's going to be bright for a few seconds." You click a switch and the screens in the glasses light up before returning to normal.

"What did you make? Is this like a computer and glasses combined?"

"Yeah. It's a pair of shades with a user interface. As you said is basically like a computer in a pair of glasses."

"How do I type?"

"Well you won't be able to on mine but the glasses have a ton of different highly sensitive sensors. Your eyes linger on the letters and it computes it into text. It's the same for selecting apps, clicking links. It's not 100% ironed out yet but it's controlled by eye movement. It's hard to use at first but you catch on surprisingly quick."

"This is insane, how the hell did you come up with this? How the hell did I raise someone like you?"

"I wanted a way to go on the Internet in class."

"Dirk!"

"Kidding- i'm kidding! Jesus, don't get your panties in a twist, I don't even go to public school anymore. All jokes aside I was watching iron man 2, saw the screen in his helmet and thought it would be a super cool idea to put that in shades." You shrug as he takes off the glasses and hands them to you. You turn them off and set them next to your computer.

"I can put it in your shades too if you want. It'll only take a few hours. It's still raw, buggy and glitchy but you could help beta test. I need to see how well two way connection actually works between systems. It works in controlled environments but I don't know about long range or in a densely populated area.

"That'd be super cool." He takes off his shades and hands them to you. You put them next to yours and go off to the livingroom to eat burritos and watch him drink his sorrows away with alcohol.

* * *

You step out of the shower and exhale, you're so worn out and tired. You feel slightly numb. Maybe you'll always be like this. It's been like this for as long as you can remember so you figure that's probably how it'll stay. You dry off and get dressed, followed by you brushing your teeth and hair. You look at yourself in the mirror for a minute. You look pale and ill, far too skinny with dark circles. Finally you open the door and walk into the bedroom.

Dirk is laying on your bed, browsing his laptop while the tv is playing quietly in the background. You honestly have no idea what he's up to. You sit, setting your alarm and plugging the phone in. As you put the phone on the side table you spot your shades.

"Did you finish the glasses already?"

"Yeah, I want to do some stuff with it before you go to bed though. Put them on." You oblige, noticing they're connected to a tiny usb cable. "Alright feel the left side of your shades. On the part that rests on the side of your head should be a small switch. Flip that. I'm going to warn you what we're about to do will take awhile." You fumble around until you feel a very small switch, you move it and the screen lights up much like before, only now the screens suddenly turn black instead of being able to see. A few seconds later a prompt in bright red letters comes up.

"Okay so it should be asking you to look forward, this is in order to calibrate its interface to your eyes specifically. First you're going to be looking straight ahead, nowhere else. This will be for about 10 minutes, or until the accuracy ratio is high enough to meet requirements. It will tell you when it has a target and then it will start the reading until the screen turns white again. Blinking is fine but try to keep looking in the same direction."

"Alrighty." You say and just sit there with dirk looking at a laptop behind you. You kinda daze off and think about nothing in particular. Minutes pass until the screen flashes white and you jump. You were not expecting that.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I wasn't exactly paying attention."

"Is that what you were doing? I was wondering because that was only 6 minutes and it usually takes me 8-9 at minimum. So you were just focusing on nothing?"

"Yup."

"Jesus, alright well let's start again. Look up, same procedure."

You absently pick at your shirt as you look up. Much like before a few minutes pass until the screen flashes white.

"Cool, this time look down."

You continue in this fashion for almost two and a half hours. You look to the left, right, every single eye angle someone can think of. And then you do it all again! When it's finally finished your eyes hurt and you've picked a hole in the edge of your shirt.

"Sorry that took so long, it usually takes quite a bit longer though. Could I see them for a minute?" He takes the shades and plugs in three more of the tiny usb cables. He connects all of them to the computer and starts typing. You watch him quickly tap keys and move through tabs of code.

Another 45 minutes pass until he finally unplugs the sunglasses. He hands them to you and tells you to turn them on again. You flip the little switch and it flashes white before going to the screen. He asks if you can see and you nod.

"You just have to play around to get use to it. In settings there are different things you can add to the screen. Time, date, message notifications. All of that shit. I have a few standard apps you can switch out too. If you want anything added I can probably make it. But try it out and tell me if you think it's calibrated correctly. I should mention that most things on the shades are being monitored for statistical data."

You start to check out your new fancy computer shades. There are a few apps on the right side of your vision. When you look at an icon the one you focus on becomes larger until it opens the app. This ensures you don't open any random app you see. When the app is open it only takes up a small portion of the screen until you resize by looking at a pre set size. Somehow none of this obstructs your vision.

The few apps are an internet browser, pesterchum, and a text messenger that's linked to your phone and has all your contacts. The other side has brightness (probably there for quick access), settings, and a system coding thing that you probably shouldn't open. The keyboard comes up on the bottom when you select a location you can type in. So far this is awesome.

"Does it work?"

"Hell yeah! This is so fucking cool. How can you make this stuff?"

"It's pretty complicated."

"I would have never guessed. Thanks kid, this is wonderful. I can text you at work and nobody will know a thing."

"No problem. It has enough battery to last until i can make you a charger. If they run out of power they'll be regular sunglasses, along with when they're off. But the battery lasts for days and it charges in a matter of minutes." You nod and yawn. You stayed up alot later than you were originally planning.

"That's all great but honestly I just want to lay down. I'll see you tomorrow kid."

You take off the shades and turn them off, placing them on the side table. You see dirk close the laptop and grab his phone before rising from the bed. A few seconds later he leaves the room and you're alone. You quickly fall asleep, dreaming of a bright red sun and golden fire.


	18. Chapter 18

trigger warnings- suicidal ideology, panicky stuff, mentions of the sex trade, harassment/abuse and child neglect

* * *

You're sitting on the edge of the roof, looking down at the city below. All of the people and cars look so small. Tiny and insignificant, just like you. I'd be so easy to just… throw yourself off. To jump and get it over with. It turns out you're too much of a pussy though, every time you try someone stops you or you can't go through with it. You kick your legs absently as crows loom and caw overhead.

Bro came home today, he left a half eaten burger for you. It was dry and old but you ate it anyways. You need food and it's a gift from bro. You have to eat it, you have to. I'd be like a slap to his face if you didn't.

You pick up nearby rocks and chuck them off the building, watching them plummet to the ground. Faintly, you think it would hurt a shitton to be hit by one of these pebbles. You grab a handful of broken cement and throw it as hard as you can. The movement pushes you forward, causing you to nearly plummet off the edge.

You desperately try to regain stability, this is definitely not how you're going out. That would be so shitty. Dying is going to be of your own accord, not accidently falling off the building. Your heart is beating a mile a minute as you scramble away from the edge. Slightly shaking you stand and run back to the safety of the apartment. That was way too close.

* * *

You wake up to the door slamming. You wait but the entire apartment is silent. You don't know what that means. Slowly you rise from the bed and peek out the door. You don't see Bro, maybe the door slamming was him leaving. Quite frankly you're relieved. You're starting to get really scared of him, he's been displaying very alarming behavior.

Apprehensively you walk into the other room. You see a piece of paper on the table. Most of the page is one of the incredibly upsetting comics he likes to draw, the rest is a sloppily written note. You struggle to read it and when you start to figure it out you feel your stomach drop.

 _'I pawned the computer so you have to go to regular school now. I signed you up for classes at Brown High. I better not get any calls about you ditching.'_

Oh no. You can't imagine going to highschool. You completely skipped the middle school phase. You're going to be so stupid. You won't know how to act. You don't know what to do! You haven't had a conversation with someone your age in years. After figuring out where the school is you decide to go to bed. You're overwhelmed and anxious. You don't know if you can do this.

/.../

Somehow you got your schedule from the front office and made it to your classes on time. The day passed with comments about your shades and you feeling like a complete idiot. You're quickly walking to the exit by the end of the day, you just want to go home. You didn't think that would ever be the case but highschool is shit, rotting away in the apartment is better. At least there you aren't humiliated by the way you talk and present yourself.

"Holy shit! Is that strider?" You hear a somewhat familiar voice call out. You keep walking, hoping they'll leave. You aren't in the mood for a confrontation. To your dismay they don't stop. A small group of people about jog up so you turn around. Wonderful, it's literally the people who use to harass you. Of course something like this would happen.

"Damn, it really is you. You haven't changed at all! Where did you run off to?"

"M'brother took me outta school. I went ta' online school." You reply quietly.

"And you still have that god awful accent. It's like you don't know how to form words properly. You're so tiny! Has puberty hit you at all?" You don't reply, you just remain neutral as you wait for this encounter to end.

"Why does he have those glasses?" You hear someone you don't recognize ask. A few people nod in agreement. Instantly you know shit is about to go down so you attempt to step back.

"Oh man, I'll show you! This is insane." He grabs your arm to prevent you from bolting and snatches your shades. As soon as you open your eyes most of them gasp. You have a large bruise and black eye on the left side of your face so you just _know_ this is a pretty sight.

"Holy fuck." You hear a person mutter before something catches your eye. The guy is about to snap your shades. Fuck, that's your only pair and bro won't buy you another. Frantically you attempt to stop him.

"Uh, I know ya don't like me an all but I need those real bad." You mumble frantically and he just stares. "Please man, you can beat tha shit outta me jus' don't break my shades."

"Deal." He tosses the glasses to the floor and proceeds to kick the living shit out of you. Then a few people decide to join in on the fun. Well, you said they could do it so it's basically your fault. You had it coming. You're honestly just glad your shades are still in one piece.

* * *

You're holding Dirks hand tightly, keeping him upright while standing outside of the apartment owned by the couple that help you out occasionally. They don't know you take care of your brother but you need help. He's hungry, really hungry. You're the same but you can hide it a lot better than him. He keeps saying "food" over and over. It's one of the few words he actually knows. The problem is you literally have none. Nothing to eat along with absolutely no money.

Apprehensively you knock on the door when Dirk whines. You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to comfort him. A few seconds later you hear shuffling until the door opens. The lady looks at you and then to Dirk with an incredibly confused expression. She gapes, waiting for an explanation.

"I need help." You whisper. Her eyes go wide because you seldom ask for help. They always go out of their way to do it for you, you never seek them out. She lets you inside and you struggle to pick up Dirk before hurrying to the couch. You're not strong enough to actually lift him for very long. Once you're sitting he looks up at you miserably. You know he's faint and weak, you're right there with him. It's evident if you look at either of you, more so him.

"Hungry." He whimpers and you sigh, patting his head. You can see small tears in his eyes and your heart breaks. You're fucking up. She's still waiting for an explanation. You really don't want to explain yet so you address why you're here.

"Can we have somethin' to eat?" You ask with a tight voice. "We really need it. Jus' alittle, please. I'm trying real hard but it's not enough anymore."

She watches you for a few seconds before disappearing into the kitchen. The fridge opens and the microwave turns on a little later. You deflate and let out a small sigh of relief. Thank god. You look at Dirk with a sad, soft, smile.

"Kid we're gettin' food." He looks up at you hopefully. You put a hand in his, "you're gonna be okay."

A few minutes later she appears with pizza and water. She honestly looks so concerned. She sets the cups on the coffee table and hands you the plate. Instantly Dirk grabs a slice and practically inhales it. You literally just watch him eat for awhile. You're so happy to see him eat. So happy that you can't stop yourself from running a hand over his hair affectionately. You eventually turn to Nina who's been watching you intently.

"Um, this is Dirk. He's my lil' bro." You inspect your hands as she continues to watch you.

"How long have you been taking care of him?" You flinch at the words, that was direct.

"Couple a' months."

"Have you been going to school?"

"Bro put me back in online classes. He gave me an old laptop that his friend doesn't use anymore."

"And how have you payed for him?" You don't reply and suddenly she looks very upset, "Dave."

"I'm sorry."

"Dave, you're 15. You know I can't let this happen. You're not old enough to take care of a child. I don't know how you're getting money but there is no doubt it's illegal. This isn't right." You slowly look up at her, terrified.

"Don't." You manage to gasp out, "please don't take him. I-" you let out a sob but Dirk just keeps eating. He's so unaware and you're so scared. "Without him I don't have anything. Striders take care of eachother, that's what bro says. If I can't do this what right do I have to be callin' myself a strider? It's my turn now, he's my reason to live. Please."

Her mouth is a straight line, uncertainty written on her face. You can see she's trying to maintain cool and stay composed. You wipe tears off your cheeks as you hiccup. You don't know what you'd do if dirk was taken away. You think you would probably do something really dumb. Eventually she lets out a long, tense breath and smiles.

"Why don't you guys come over for dinner from now on? Just come over at 6 and we can all eat. You, me, my boyfriend and now Dirk."

"Really? Tha's alot of people." You mumble and sniff.

"I can manage." She looks at your brother, "So his name is Dirk, how old is he?"

"Bro said he's 3. But he can't really do the stuff I think a 3 year old should."

"What do you mean?"

"He can't talk or walk." Once again she looks really concerned. "But, I mean he couldn't crawl when I met him. Now he can walk if I hold his hand and i taught him a few words. M'trying, I really am."

"Is he always this out of it?"

"No, he's just hungry. He's usually babbling on and on and getting into shit."

"When's the last time you ate?"

"Me? I dunno. But it's almost been a day and a half for him. I can't let him go hungry."

"So you give him any food you find?"

"I can handle it, he can't. He's much more important, he's still growing." You shrug.

"You're still growing too, so eat." You look over and see dirk has finished eating, he looks alot better. You were starting to get really worried. Now he's inspecting one of the many cats that live in the apartment. You guess if he's full you can eat. You grab the remaining food and consume it quickly. You're so fucking hungry it's almost unbearable.

"Why don't you guys stay here for a bit? He looks interested in Mr. Meowmix."

She stands up and picks up the cat. It's one of the older, docile ones. You put it in your lap and dirk is entranced. Then he looks up at you, back to the cat, then he repeats the process. You realize he doesn't know what to do so you take his hand and place it on the cat's back. He giggles and pats it gently until the cat shifts. He jumps and looks up at you again.

"It's okay, see?" You scratch the cat behind its ears and it mews softly. He watches you softly pet its black fur and scratch its fluffy face. Once it starts purring Dirk giggles again. He slowly puts a hand on its back like before.

"I'm going to make dinner." She pulls out her phone and leaves into the kitchen again. Dirk keeps softly patting the cat, retracting his hand slightly whenever it moves. He's so captivated by it, you're surprised he's being this cautious and careful. He usually tries to pry everything apart, he's rather destructive.

"Dirk." You say and he looks up at you. "This is a cat. Can you say that, cat?"

This is what you've been doing. You give him something, let him play with it and then tell him what it's called. He picks words up rather quickly. Despite the circumstances you get the feeling he's pretty smart. He's been able to make decent progress in the few months you've been together.

"Cat," He parrots awkwardly and you smile, nodding.

"Yeah, cat, good job kid."

* * *

Dirk counts.

He does it all the time, incessantly. He mutters numbers whenever something isn't distracting him. While you're happy he's talking and _can_ count the habit is starting to worry you.

He counts blades of grass, marbles in a jar, doughnuts in a display case. Honestly anything. Once he's finished he gets your attention and says a random number confidently. You just smile back with a 'good job' and a pat to his head. When you're home and he's already gone through everything multiple times he stares at the wall or ceiling, counting to incredibly high values. You don't understand how he knows anything over 100, you haven't taught him that yet. He knows alot of things you've never taught him.

He tells you he sees patterns everywhere. That they're written and drawn on things if he looks closely. When you ask what he sees he usually says colorful lines and shapes. Occasionally he says faces or words, that's what really freaks you out. You don't know what it means but it scares the hell out of you.

* * *

You're staggering down the stairs to the couple's apartment below you. You're tired, so fucking exhausted. You haven't eaten anything or slept in days and you honestly can't stay awake anymore. You knock on the door and wait, vision fading slightly. Dirk keeps poking your cheek but you can hardly feel it. When the door finally opens you about collapse but somehow are able to catch yourself. It looks like you woke her up, you're not too aware of the time. After one look at you she takes dirk and guides you inside. You stumble to the couch and collapse onto it.

"I-" you clear your throat, "can you watch dirk for an hour or 2? I need sleep, I can't stay awake much longer."

"Stay awake." She says, setting dirk down. He wanders out of your sight. You try to find him but moving your head makes your vision fade."Stay awake, you need to eat."

"I'm so tired." You whimper and almost start crying, you're a mess. All you want to do is rest.

"I know darling, please stay awake." Whenever she calls you darling or sweetheart it makes you smile. Sometimes she makes you feel like you have a family, like she's your mom. When you were a child you had dreams that they would take you in, now you know that'll never happen. It's too much of an inconvenience for them.

She leaves into the kitchen and you sit back, trying to follow her instructions and stay awake. You daze off until a soft hand is on your face. She gives you a small cup and tells you to drink all of it. You do so, you can't quite figure out what it was, it was slightly similar to milk. Next, She hands you a plate, bowl and cup of applejuice. It's some sort of sandwich and yogurt.

"What about dirk?"

"I'll give him food too, don't worry. You need to think of yourself now, please eat."

"Okay."

You slowly eat, you can hardly tell what's going on around you. You can hardly taste what you're eating. Your vision is blurry and ears ringing. Everything is nauseating and you feel like shit. Chewing is a chore, breathing is hard, your whole body feels like a weight. You've finished the sandwich and are eating yogurt when you almost faint. Your head swims and you dive forward slightly. She stops you, catching the bowl and spoon before they fall to the ground.

"Dave, look at me." You look at her, only slightly able to focus. How long has she been sitting next to you? Until now you haven't processed that she's rubbing your back. "When's the last time you ate a full meal?"

"I don't remember."

"When's the last time you actually slept?"

"Wednesday, I think.

"It's 8AM on Saturday, that's nearly 4 days."

"Sorry."

"Here," she sets the bowl aside and helps you stand. You see dirk rummaging through a CD stand, looking at each album and disk. At least he puts them back where they belong. "Let me take you to the bed."

You struggle to walk, her having to support most of your weight. With her help you make it to the nearby bedroom and flop down on the mattress. You just collapse, not bothering with the blankets or going anywhere near a pillow. She seems to be saying something but you can't hear, all you can do is lose consciousness.

You dream of an empty city overrun by crows. It's quiet, peaceful. Until you look at the sky. Hundreds of meteors fly overhead. You watch them fall to the ground one by one as everything catches on fire. A good while later a hand on your shoulder wakes you up. You groan and shift slightly. When your eyes crack open she lets out a relieved sigh. Nina is kneeling next to the bed, a hand on your arm.

"I'm just checking on you. Do you want lunch? I can bring it to you along with dirk."

You nod and get up so she leaves the room. A few minutes later she appears with dirk and two bowls. Your brother crawls into the bed, sitting right next to you. She hands both of you a bowl. It's chicken noodle soup. She leaves again but reappears with a bowl of her own and another cup of what she made you drink earlier. She hands it to you so you chug it quickly without question. She's giving you food so you couldn't care less.

Once everyone is settled you start eating. It's much easier to eat this, less chewing involved. You don't have to force every bite down your throat. Everything is unusually quiet and still. By the time you're halfway done your head starts bobbing and you're close to passing out again. Despite the rest you're still incredibly exhausted and groggy. She takes the bowls, leads Dirk off the bed and tells you to go back to sleep. You can't object so you're out a few seconds later.

This time you don't dream of anything, it's dark and black. You can't see but it's cool, you feel a light wind. In the middle you hear two voices that you recognize. It's the couple, they're talking.

"Welcome home, how was work?" The female voice calls

"It was fine, pretty slow honestly. I smell like pizza dough though. I'm going to change." The male responds.

"Don't change in the bedroom, Dave is in there."

"Is that why Dirk is organizing the art supplies? Was Dave hurt again?"

"No, he's just exhausted. He was close to passing out when he came over, Dirk even knew something was wrong. Actually, come with me. You can see for yourself. He looks horrible."

You hear the door open, but you can't move due to still being in a comatose state. They go through some drawers, a blanket is draped over you and the conversation starts up again. Only now the voices are quiet and hushed.

"He's so thin." That's the male voice, he sounds worried. "Look at his arms, he's doing it again."

"I know. Whenever he stops coming for food this happens. He thinks he can do everything himself." She replies sadly.

"I'm sure he thinks he's bothering us. He stops coming whenever he overhears us talking about money." His voice is unsteady, both of them sound so worried.

"He's trying so hard. He says It all the time, 'I'm really trying but it's never enough.' He always pushes himself way too far and only asks for help when he's at the end of his rope." You swear she's crying, you can't actually confirm this though.

"I don't think he knows how to live any other way. Have you figured out what he does for money yet?" He asks hesitantly.

"No, he won't even look at me when I ask. I'm scared honestly. I really hope it's not what I'm suspecting." You feel a weight next to you, fingers smoothing your hair out of your face and a small squeeze to your hand. "He's been through so much. Far too much for a 16 year old. I didn't think people actually lived like him, I thought it was all on tv."

"I definitely didn't think something like this would happen when we moved out together, that's for sure."

The voices trail off and you rest in somewhere that feels incredibly blank and cold. You feel someone running a hand through your hair and down your back. After awhile they stand and leave the room. You're finally able to fall asleep.

* * *

You stumble into the apartment after a long night walking the town. Unfortunately dirk is sitting in the living room watching cable that you just started subscribing to. You look and feel horrible, you don't like him seeing you like this. As you walk closer you spot some sort of stuffed animal next to him, maybe a doll? Then it occurs to you, he has bros puppet. He found cal. Your heart stops as you quickly shuffle over to him.

"Hey, why are you awake?" He shrugs so you try again, "where'd you get that?"

"The other bedroom." This time you nearly have a heart attack.

"Okay. Do you remember the talk we had? You're not allowed to go in there."

"I could hear him laughing."

"Dirk, it's only a puppet. A puppet you shouldn't touch or play with." Who knows what sick shit bro does to it.

"It's not just a puppet."

"What do you mean?" You get so confused when he's like this, you never know what to do. "Kid, it's not alive. Even if it's talking I can assure you that it's not alive."

"Cal isn't a puppet."

Oh god. How does he know it's name. What the actual fuck. This is too much, from one messed situation to the next. That's your life. Suddenly, panic fills your gut. The stupid puppet is staring at you with its soulless eyes. Soulless, all seeing eyes. Oh dear lord.

You jump up from your position on the floor and run to the bathroom. After locking the door you're shaking and nearly crying on the cold tile. You usually end up doing this anyways, just normally it's not due to a nostalgic 1 on 1 with lil' cal. This is so disturbing, there is no way he could have figured out its name on his own. You're so confused. Honestly it's reminding you of what bro use to say.

 _Watch your back lil' man, cal knows what you're up to. He knows everything, he sees everything. You can't hide, you're never alone._

 _Don't slip, don't fuck up. Cal will tell me all about the shit you did, everything you didn't do. You can't let anyone see your weakness, especially yourself._

 _Y'know all the times you sneak into the kitchen and steal a knife before lurking off to your room? Well I do now, cal told me about it. What, are you trying to off yourself now?_

You gasp and shudder, desperately trying to calm down. You need to stop losing control like this, especially around dirk. He doesn't need you to be a mess, you need to be strong. You even out your breathing, exhale deeply, and stand. After splashing water on your face you open the door. Dirk is sitting next to it, Cal seemingly gone.

"Hey kiddo," you kneel next to him. "Sorry about that. Where'd you put the puppet?"

"Where I found it." He looks away from you, "sorry."

"It's alright. Just... promise me you won't go in that room again, okay?"

"Promise."

* * *

"Bro I'm hungry," Dirk calls from the bedroom. You sigh and stand from the futon. The appliances are still broken so you put water in the coffee maker and wait for it to heat up. The moment you figured out the coffee pot could give you nearly boiling water was a huge weight off your shoulders. You shuffle around until you find the pack of instant ramen you bought the other day. You finally found something cheap that he'll eat willingly.

Once the water is ready you pour it in the styrofoam cup and let it set for a few minutes. You know if you just give it to him he'll eat it without letting it cook. You don't understand his eating habits, it's hard to work around. He tells you most food makes him want to cry, that it's disgusting, the texture is terrible or it's just "too much."

You stand and walk into his room. He's watching anime on your old, shitty laptop. You finally have electricity so he can charge it without loitering around somewhere with an outlet. You can't afford internet but dirk just steals the neighbors. That's what you use to do too. You're sure they're use to it. You hand him the cup and a fork, he thanks you and you move to leave the room.

"Bro."

"Yeah?"

"Will you buy me anime shades?"

"I- um. I can try but i have no idea what you mean."

"I can order them! I just need your credit card."

"Yeah, sure. I need to get money first though. I'll tell you when I can." You try to smile, you guess it worked because he smiles back. You turn to leave but he stops you again.

"Wait, Bro."

"Hm?"

"Watch this with me! It's about these schoolgirls that get turned into magical girls, it's really cool. They fight these things called witches. Watch it with me, please?" You chuckle and sit next to him on the bed. He restarts the episode and starts talking again, "I've never watched this before but i've read about it online. They say it's much darker than it looks."

You're forced to watch every episode with his nonstop commentary and you couldn't be happier.


	19. Chapter 19

mentions of child abuse, non-con and self abusive tendencies

* * *

Your name is Dirk Strider and you're what most people would call an internet icon. To say you have a lot of followers is a vast understatement. You're one of the most popular accounts on multiple platforms. It wasn't always like this, no. You started some of your accounts well before Dave even started going to college. You got a lot of hate back in the day, you still do, only now it's for very different reasons.

You started out recording shitty video game walkthroughs on an old windows 98 laptop. People basically hate spammed them. The complaints were reasonable, the video was choppy and laggy with a horrible voice over. You were 10. When you realized that wasn't working you started to do videos explaining how to do simple code. Mostly shit that could royally fuck up someone's computer. That's when people started paying attention to you.

They began to watch your shitty channel, and as you got older the video quality rose. As that rose so did your follower count. People slowly started to trickle into your other social media and you were pumped. By now bro was working on the first movie so you had the apartment to yourself for the first time. That made it possible to make some quality ass content.

You go back to making gaming videos, but not shitty walkthroughs. You basically tell random stories while killing people. The computer you have now allows for smooth gameplay footage and a normal sounding commentary. Not being 10 also helps. You still have videos about code but now they're accompanied by simple mechanics tutorials. Of course you have videos showing off the various robots and programs you've been working on. But you never show off the "revolutionary shit", as Dave likes to call it. You're still a bit protective of that.

When Dave made it big it basically set in stone your place on the Internet. Not only do you have an obscene amount of subscribers on youtube, but also followers on instagram, twitter, tumblr, anywhere. This is also when you realized the little cult following you've developed is very devoted. It's almost alarming. You can post whatever the fuck you want and they just love it.

So that's what you do, you post stupid shitty animations, my little pony remixes, anime reviews and voice overs. Honestly the quality of your videos has gone down dramatically but your follower count continues to climb. You've taken to posting vague bullshit everywhere else. You no longer take the Internet seriously.

But you do have an occasional serious post, and now you're asking what the people want next. An overwhelming majority want a video with your brother. You know for a fact Dave won't want to get on camera. You don't even know what type of video you could coax him into doing.

You decide to ask the Internet again. You post, "I'm getting the idea you want a video with my brother. That's pretty vague, can I have specifics?" After a few hours you run a program that compiles the replies. The top answers were-

Show us your eyes  
Q&A  
Make him watch -insert random video here-

Okay, that's basically what you were expecting. Obviously showing off your eyes isn't going to happen. A question and answer session would take too long, not to mention Dave wouldn't want to do that. It would be way too much like an interview. So you look around to see if there is a common video. It turns out a few people linked this really fucked up looking thing. You guess it'll work.

Hours pass until you hear the door open. You decide to bug him right away, then he can have the rest of the evening without interruption. You walk over to him, he doesn't look too tired or stressed. That makes you feel a little better about this.

"Can you watch a video on camera for my viewers?"

You can't help but laugh at expression he gives you. A lip twitches as he gives you a scowl that plainly reads, 'I'm fucking done.'

"Sure, why the hell not."

He follows you into your room and plops down on the chair next to you. You get right to business, turning on the camera, introducing yourself, Dave and the video. As you press play you think having a strider reaction video is a stupid idea. Neither of you are going to show any sort of reaction. That's basically the foundation of the strider stare- don't let shit phase you. Well, this is what the people asked for.

The video is unsettling, slightly creepy. But nothing that would get a response out of either of you. Dave has seen some fucked up shit in real life so this weird animated stuff doesn't phase him at all. You find it funny that they're trying this hard to be edgy. Eventually the video ends and Dave sighs.

"That it?"

"Yup."

"Alright," he stands up and pats your head lightly before exiting the room.

You record an intro and conclusion quickly, slapping the video together. It doesn't take long to get everything synced up and working properly. You export the video, saving it once it's done, and start the process of posting it to the Internet. As soon as it's ready to upload Dave tells you that dinner is here. You hit post and hurry to the living room, you're hungry and curious about tonight's meal.

When you enter the next room you smile happily at the sushi piled on the counter. Dave is already eating so you grab your own and sit next to him. The living room is warm with moonlight filtering through the large glass wall. As of late you haven't been turning on all the tvs, you'd rather bask in the presence of your brother. Make sure he's alright, that he's still functioning. You talk about each other's days and joke lightheartedly. Everything feels right when you're together like this. Like nobody else matters.

And you're beginning to think that's the case.

* * *

Dirk has taken to sleeping in your room. Sometimes he's already there when you come home, other times he wanders in at 1 am. And that's where he is now. He's sound asleep next to you as you stare at the ceiling. Every fiber of your being wants to go to bed but you can't. You keep thinking about useless shit. Useless shit that has no right to keep you up at night.

You look over at your brother. It looks like he's really tired. You shouldn't wake him. Carefully you rise from the bed and creep out of the room. At first you just sit on the futon and stare out the window. The night sky is unobscured by the thick smog this high up. You can see the stars and moon decorating the dark blue surroundings. The lights of businesses and streetlamps illuminate the city below, giving life to it even late at night. Eventually you stand and walk onto the porch.

As soon as you're outside the sounds of traffic surround you. It's cold but not freezing, you'll be fine in what you're wearing. You don't have any patio furniture so you sit up against the wall and watch the city. You can't say you miss Texas, you hope you never have to go there again. The idea of seeing bro makes you want to throw up. By now you're just waiting for the bastard to die of a drug overdose or get convicted for murder. Sirens wail as you watch blinking and flashing lights in the distance.

Resting your head against the wall you take a deep breath. You don't know why all your horrible memories have to surface at night. Night is when you should be resting, providing much needed energy for another exhausting day at work. But by the looks of things you're not getting any sleep tonight.

Looking at your phone you see the time is 3:37 am. If you fall asleep now you'll have a maximum of 4 hours of sleep. That's not too bad, It's doable. You've functioned on much less before. Unfortunately when you try to stand and go to bed you find yourself unable to move. Instead you just sit and think.

Sometimes you think it's your fault bro hates you. He always said you were a shitty strider. And that's your fault, so it must be your fault. But it's all so confusing. He was nice when he did horrible things but was an asshole any other time. Part of you knows it was just his manipulation tactic but you can't help but wonder if it's your fault he was always mad. You must have fucked something up because you have no idea why else he would do what he did.

And what he did was terrible.

You can vividly remember all the times he pulled you off of the futon before pouring alcohol and drugs down your throat and when he made you pass out from choking you. You have chunks of memory from when he fucked with you while you were nearly unconscious and heavily drugged. You shudder just thinking about it.

Then there are all of the strifes of the roof. It's not much of a strife if one person is unarmed though. He would always laugh and taunt you, making fun of every movement. The hot sun beat down as a crowd of crows watched bro kick you to the concrete and slash deep gashes in your back. The time he almost stabbed your chest sticks out the most. He was about to slice your shoulder but he was drunk and missed. Instead he cut your chest, right above your heart. He quickly left when you started panicking and passed out.

Faintly you realize you've started crying. Your hands are shaking as a few tears fall down your face. You pull up your knees, resting a cheek on one. It's peaceful for awhile, aside from your muddled mind and dark thoughts. You sniffle occasionally while small hiccuping cries leave you. You wish this didn't happen, you wish you were stronger. You're too old to break down like this every night.

See, that's another reason why bro hates you. You're weak, pathetic, you don't know how to stand up for yourself and tell others when they're fucking up. He's mentioned on multiple occasion that less bad shit would happen if you manned up and stopped being a pussy.

You hide your face in your knees as your weeping grows worse. You want to go to bed, you don't want to think about this anymore. It's useless, it doesn't matter. Bro can't hurt you now and you shouldn't think about anything else. It's all in the past.

Dirk said to go to him if you got upset. No matter what, when or why. He made you promise and for once you think you might be able to keep that promise. But a voice tells you he'll laugh. He'll mock you for actually thinking he'd help someone like you through something like this. But maybe not. You hope not, because your heart and life are on the line.

You really want to go to him but all you can think about is your racing heart, pounding head and the overwhelming urge to tear, pick, and scratch your skin. Instead you curl into a ball, face hidden and gasping for air. You slightly hope he wakes up, but you can't do it yourself, you can hardly stand as it is.

Time passes, you're not too sure how long. All you know is that you're shaking, muffled sobs leaving you regularly. It's getting harder and harder to ignore the itching wounds of your arms. You're so out of it that you're completely caught off guard when a warm body sits next to you. Dirk woke up, he woke up and now he's helping. You wanted this, and hell, it makes you happier than you're willing to admit. But you can't help but feel guilty whenever he has to help you through times like this. You're hopeless.

"Let's go back inside." Dirk says soft and lovingly. He runs a hand down your back before helping you up. Together you walk to your bed where you lay with him by your side. Your fingers keep twitching, your breath choppy and uneven, interrupted by occasional shuddering gasps. One hand moves to scratch a wrist but Dirk gently takes it into his own. Subconsciously you attempt to get it back but he won't let go. Instead you try to think of something else, something less destructive, but you can't. You just want to dig your nails into your wrist and scratch until you bleed.

"Please," you whisper. He cocks his head to one side quizzically, still holding your hands. You feel like jumping off a building, putting a bullet through your head, downing a bottle of pills, in short you want to die. "I can't do this anymore."

"Yes you can." He says firmly.

"I can't." You mumble while shaking your head. He doesn't say anything, he only keeps ahold of your hands to prevent you from tearing at your arms. As you begin to realize you no longer have control of the situation you become more and more distressed. This isn't what you wanted- but what were you expecting?

"Dirk? Please." He just shushes you and rubs small comforting circles where his hands are holding yours. You let out this horrible, desperate whimper that you know sounds similar to an upset child. He only pulls you alittle closer in response. You know he can see the tears running down your cheeks, he can hear how quickly you're pulling in half gasps and the odd breathless sounds that you can't seem to silence. He has to be able to feel you trembling. You're a mess and it's all due to you not having the option of slicing open your wrist.

You're so tense it hurts. You've never let yourself get this bad, you would have relapsed long ago if it wasn't for Dirk sitting here, preventing you from doing so. He seems to be calm, you wish you were somewhere near that but it's just the opposite. Your mind is clouded and muddled, not allowing any actual coherent thought. You let your eyes slide shut as you try to stop thinking about the useless and humiliating shit you've done throughout your life.

Eventually you get so lost in thought that you forget about what's going on around you. It's muffled sounds and darkness until one thought prevails, 'I want to die.' You really, really want to die. Your thoughts are racing 100 miles an hour, fucked up ideas and scenarios being tossed around left and right. It's all so much and you can't concentrate. You're highly distressed until you feel the softest of kisses pressed to the side of your neck. You still slightly, instead focusing on the hand resting on your chest.

You choke, coming back to yourself alittle more. You try to even out your erratic breathing because your lungs ache and your head pounds with each breath. He moves his hand from your chest to your jaw and you let out a long exhale, body shivering along with it. You don't know how he does this, how he calms you down so easily. He understands you like the back of his hand. Which is odd because you don't understand yourself at all. You've never been able to. While you're breathing is still choppy and uneven you're alright. You can think, you can breath, you aren't alone. You think you might be able to make it through this.

* * *

You knew your brother had nightmares, you've been aware of that throughout your life. While you can't remember anything from your childhood you do remember him jumping awake most nights when you couldn't sleep and crawled into bed with him. You vaguely remember all the times he locked himself in the bathroom for 30 minutes, and how all you could hear was his broken sobbing with an occasional hiss of pain. These instances are alot more alarming looking back.

Often you wish you could recall what happened when you were young. You've tried hypnosis and repressed memory exercises to help you string it together, but you're almost unaware of what it was actually like when there was no money. Your memories only start to piece together at the end of elementary school, and still then it's hit and miss. You just want to know what you thought bro did when he left you for work at 11 pm. You want to know what you were thinking because all of it seems so obvious now.

But this is all in the past so you try to ignore the things you can't quite remember and focus on what's happening. Focus on what you can study and fix now that you understand what's really going on. The problem is, things aren't that simple. You can't just fix what's wrong with Dave, because it's not completely external factors that are bothering him. Yes, work is a huge player in the stress, but his difficulty in working through his past will be his ultimate downfall. His head is calling the shots and pulling the strings and as much as you wish, you can't just upload a program that'll fix him. To your dismay people don't work like computers.

You wish you could do something more, anything to make him feel better. While you're sure you've stopped him from relapsing multiple times, you need something tangible. Just so you might be able to reassure yourself- know that you're doing something right. You look for changes in his behavior, his moods, overall wellbeing. And you're getting the impression that he's feeling better. When you see this you think maybe you're doing alright, you don't need to worry so much. At least he knows he's not alone and that you'll always be there for him.

He's alot less tense around you now that everything is on the table. Whenever you show up at his work he visibility relaxes. Of course he's still jumpy around everyone else but it's much better when it comes to you. It's like once he knows he doesn't have to hide his problems he can drop a huge weight and breathe. This is just another thing that makes you wish you figured out what he was doing earlier. Then maybe things wouldn't have gotten so bad.

You're beginning to understand at the core everything he does is for you. At first the thought made you uneasy, you felt vain for it even crossing your mind. But as you uncovered more and more about the past it became a truth all too quickly. Your brother fought through the worst kinds of abuse and poverty just so you could have a fighting chance. So you could have what he never did.

He tried to make money in any way possible. He applied to stores and businesses that never called back, posted ads on craigslist when he could find Internet. But all too often it seems he turned to the streets. And that's what really worries you. At least in the end he started going to college, without any real prior education, just so he could get a job and maybe step away from the underground lifestyle.

He's told you multiple times that he wouldn't have done anything with himself if you never came along. That without the prospect of keeping you alive and well he would have killed himself or became a homeless, drug addicted, prostitute. The worst part is you think he's being 100% serious. He honestly thinks he's nothing without you. The way he talks about himself and what he did prior to you living with him is disturbing. Basically every part of his life was centered around the eldest strider. Day in and day out, he thought about Bro and what he would do.

You try not to think about his childhood too often. In all honesty it makes you mad. Not at him of course, but at the situation, mostly at Bro. You just don't understand why someone didn't stop him. Why nobody tried to get Dave removed from such a toxic and abusive environment. While you understand your life would be vastly different if cps took him you can't help but think the whole situation is just wrong. What did the school think? Were they aware, did they even care? You don't know if you really want the answer.

* * *

You wake up to your alarm buzzing on the side table. For once Dirk isn't laying on top of you so it's easy to silence the ringing and go to shower, brush your teeth and shave. You hardly got any sleep last night, staying up far too late with your good ol' emotions. Due to this you're hardly awake as you stand under the warm water. You just want to go back to sleep, you're so damn tired. When you almost fall over from nodding off you decide i'd be smart to get out before you pass out and hit your head. After you've shuffled through the bathroom for a while you get dressed and walk out to the kitchen to start coffee and your day.

The dark wood is cool under your feet as you cut through the living room. Pink sunlight filters through windows, tinting everything into an orange-peach. You take a minute to watch the street, absently following a bus travel from block to block. When traffic starts to get worse and white light fully engulfs the room you hurry over to the kitchen. You try to be quiet while putting in the coffee filter and loading grounds into the machine. Dirk is such a heavy sleeper, nothing wakes him up. You're rather envious, he'd be able to sleep through an earthquake while you wake from the lightest touch.

Once the coffee is brewing you look in the fridge. There's an assortment of leftovers from take out to whatever else you end up buying. Everything looks rather unappetizing, like it would be too much work to actually sit down and eat. That's frequently the case, eating is more of a chore for you than anything. After thinking for a few seconds you decide that skipping breakfast would be fine. You're not sure if you can bring yourself to eat this early anyways. It's not like you haven't done this hundreds of times in the past.

Your mind wanders to dirk, he told you to start telling him when you leave for work. You don't understand why he wants to be woken up so early just to say goodbye. Still, you do it, you'll do just about anything he asks. As you walk to your bedroom you decide to implement a new strategy to telling him you're leaving. You're not going to poke, prod or pat him till he wakes up. You're gonna hug him. Even though he tries to hide it he's quite cuddly so how can it go wrong?

You softly get on the bed and lie down next to him. You start by petting his hair, you can't help it, it's just so calming. You know it relaxes you much more than him. You do it whenever you can get away with it. He makes a small confused noise so you put your arms around him and pull him into a hug. His eyes open slightly and he looks around before focusing on you.

"Wha's up?" He asks sleepily, eyes dropping.

"I'm going to work."

"Stay a'lil." He murmurs happily, hugging you back tightly, not showing any indication that he'll let go for the rest of the day. Maybe this is backfiring alittle. You don't think you'll be able to get yourself free even if you wanted to.

"Only a few." You tell him and he nods, yawning right in your face. You chuckle and keep a hand in his hair, scratchings softly. Almost 10 minutes pass before you hear the coffee maker beep, but you can't move. Dirk is sleeping comfortably while attached to you. He looks so happy and peaceful. You sigh and drift off completely against your will. Before everything goes black you think this isn't going to end well.

"Bro," you feel something shake your shoulder, slightly rising you from your rest. "Bro wake up." You open your eyes to see Dirk staring at you, obviously confused, alittle concerned. "C'mon dude, you need to go to work."

"Shit!" You about yell and jump out of bed. "Holy shit, thanks." You plant a kiss to the top of his head, pulling out your phone. "I'll see you tonight."

"Bye."

* * *

You walk into the editing room, about half of the staff is in. It's better than nothing, you'll take what you can get. Hesitantly you walk up to the team leader. It's obvious they're not very sober or happy but you need to get this shit fixed. You just had the producers chew you out for nearly an hour straight.

"I need you guys to finish these by the end of the week." You hand a paper with a few unedited frames and scenes names written on it to the team lead. You have at least a dozen more of these but you know they won't even begin to do that many. You'll have to do some of it yourself.

They stare at the paper for a few moments before glaring at you. He seems angry, what were you expecting? Any request you make is followed by complaints and passive aggressive remarks. Honestly you're getting really sick of this. You're the director, why do you have to deal with people getting pissed at simple requests? After standing up he rips the paper and gets right in your face.

"Fuck this, I quit." He says eloquently before snatching your shades off your face. By now you're all sorts of pissed, and when you hear the familiar snap of glasses it multiplies exponentially. You look right at him, eyebrow raised, obviously furious and he steps back. Instantly, he knows he royally fucked up.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" You say seriously and he takes another step back, legs hitting the desk behind him. Everyone is watching in fear, shock, and amusement. "I don't give a shit if you quit, but would it kill you to have some class? Seriously, was breaking my shades really necessary? What was the point? Do you feel badass or something? Oh man, you're so tough, you can break plastic. I'm so fucking impressed."

"Like shit, if I knew you were so buff I would have sent you to another department, maybe the clean up crew? That's fitting, cleaning up useless trash all day. Sounds like just the job for you." You laugh and he pales even further, "Actually, that's really the only type of job you'll get after quitting in the middle of filming. Congratulations on singlehandedly fucking up your career in one move." By now you're mocking him, using your height to your advantage and towering over them. "Why are you still here, aren't you quitting? Leave."

He all but runs out of the room and you sigh heavily, picking up the broken shades off the floor. You inspect the tiny torn wires, just as you feared, dirks hard work is ruined. That's honestly why you got so mad. Yes, everything he did was rude and uncalled for but destroying the computer shades was too far. You grab the torn paper and hand it to the nearest editor.

"Sorry about that, I don't know what came over me. I'll get a new page to you guys soon but please do this. We're so behind schedule already. The producers literally want my head on a spike."

You walk out to the hallway and let out a long breath, pulling out your phone. You need a new pair of glasses before you can go back to work. You can't let anyone else see your eyes.

TG: can you bring me a pair of shades i think theres an extra in my sidetabe drawer  
TT: I can do that, did something happen?  
TG: one of my editors decided to quit and thought it would be fun to break my shades  
TG: this is what happens when I tell people to do their job  
TG: they attack me  
TT: Wait, what did you do? They broke your shades and then what happened?  
TG: i got really pissed and yelled at them quite a bit i might have been alittle mean because i basically called them trash a few times  
TG: but they were already quitting and they broke the shades you made me  
TG: the fancy computer ones  
TT: I can made you another pair. It was rather simple the first time and it won't take long to re-calibrate. With all our money it's really not a problem.  
TG: yeah i know  
TG: it just really bothered me  
TG: i havent had someone get up in my face like that in years i thought i was done with all this petty bullshit  
TT: I don't think people in Hollywood know how to be anything but petty. I'm on my way to the campus. Will you be in your office?  
TG: yeah thanks kid

* * *

You're walking down the hall when you find Dave leaning against a wall. It looks like he's staring at the ground but his eyes are closed. For some reason you have a feeling he's been here since you texted him. He's not in his office like he said so he probably just zoned out. He does that way too often. Without his shades he always looks so sad and tired. A few people are inspecting him from around the corner.

It seems he heard you walking because he looks up warily. Right when he sees you he lets out a small sigh, deflating slightly. As soon as you're in arms length he grabs you and pulls you into a tight hug. You feel him slouch so he can hide his face in your hair. Looking around you see the people who were lingering from around the corner watching with interest.

"Bro we should go somewhere else. People are staring." You whisper but he just hugs alittle tighter.

"Shut up and hug me asshole." He murmurs so you stop talking and hug back.

"You okay?" You ask carefully and he shrugs. You almost forgot that he was practically assaulted. You bet it brought up unpleasant memories. You know he was fine at the moment but likely it's all coming back now.

"I'm happy to see you." His voice cracks and you're glad he's talking so quietly or someone might have heard. You also notice he didn't really say he was alright.

"I'm glad to see you too." You tell him and he nods. "But these two people have been watching for awhile."

"Flip them off." He instructs and you smirk. You glance in their direction and do just that. As soon as you flip them off they turn to eachother and disappear. Now that you know you're alone you move your hand to his back, softly running a hand across his spine. You stay like that, deciding to wait until he feels like he can let go. You have a feeling it's going to be a few minutes. You swear you see a smudge of movement from down the hall a few times but it always disappears quickly.

Eventually he takes a large breath and lets go. You're glad he was able to keep control and stay somewhat calm. Awhile ago he would have panicked from a confrontation like that, but he didn't. Instead he stood up for himself. When he finally opens his eyes you smile warmly. He grins back and pats your cheek softly.

You stay in the hall, standing next to him while he leans against the wall. A familiar smudge of movement catches your eye, you look that way with Dave following your gaze. His assistant is walking down the hall and over to both of you. Instantly he averts his eyes.

"Shit," he mumbles, "give me my shades." You fumble around and pull them out of your pocket. As soon as he can he grabs them out of your hand and puts them on. Nervously he asks, "Do you think he saw?" You shake your head and he continues, "Not like it's much of a secret anymore, but still."

"I understand." You reply just as the assistant gets over to you. He looks so uncomfortable whenever you're around. Not without good reason, he thinks you're the only reason Dave doesn't know about his feelings. You're pretty sure bro figured it out awhile ago. It's slightly obvious, not hard to miss.

"Uh, hey. The editing lead wants to talk."

"What the hell does he have to say?" You've only heard that tone when he's really, really annoyed.

"He said he wants to apologize."

Both you and the assistant jump when he full out laughs. Honestly you weren't expecting that. It wasn't a chuckle or a small scoff. He literally laughs like it was the most hilarious thing he's heard in years. You aren't use to him being this direct and open. And when he finally replies you gape.

"Tell him to fuck off. I don't give a shit about anything he has to say. If he wants his job back he should have thought twice before snapping my shades like a god damn twig."

You stare in shock and can't help but murmur, "damn."


	20. Chapter 20

trigger warnings- self harm, panic attack

* * *

You're at work, sitting locked in your office and you can't breathe. You can't think, you can't move and you can't fucking breathe. You feel disgusting, gross, unworthy. You're not even sure why. You randomly started freaking out, it was honestly so sudden and unexpected you didn't know how to handle it. All you could do was escape from the room without a word. You couldn't even hear if anyone tried to question you leaving, everything was muffled by your racing heart.

You struggle to relax, to even out your breathing. But all of your attempts are futile. You can't calm down at all. Your thoughts are scattered as violent tremors run through your body. Your vision is blurred and fading around the edges while you hyperventilate. You can hardly see anything but your shaking hands. You hate this, you hate that you can't control yourself. You can't control anything. You strain to take a breath but the best you can manage is a choked wheeze.

Suddenly, honestly subconsciously, you get up and blindly stumble to the desk. After rummaging around frantically you find what you were looking for. An old switchblade sits deep in one of the drawers. You knew keeping this was an idiotic idea. Unable to stay standing you literally collapse and huddle behind the desk. Through gritted teeth you once again try to take a breath but you can only produce hitched gasps. You curl up, ensuring if someone intruded they wouldn't see you.

As you pull up your sleeves you faintly think this is really fucked up, you should call Dirk. You shouldn't do this at work, even if you've done it multiple times in the past, it's always such a stupid idea. It's been the cause of far too many close calls. But you can hardly see the phone or type with your trembling hands. You can't form a word or hear a sound other than your own panting and hyperventilation. And most of all why can't you deal with anything on your own? You always need help, always. Dirk must be sick of you by now.

Forgetting all other thoughts you grip the switchblade and slash it down your arm quickly. You're shaking so the cut is jagged and deep, you can hardly keep your hand steady enough to keep ahold of the blade. Without a second thought you do the same to your opposite arm, producing about the same injury, just slightly more shallow. When you let go and feel the blade fall to the ground you try to keep some semblance of control. You finally let out a silent sob, struggling to focus as you watch blood slowly fill the uneven gashe before dripping down your hand and onto your black pants and floor.

Shit. Shit fucking fuck. You have nothing to stop the bleeding. You look around for any type of cloth when you come across a grey suit jacket you left here awhile ago. You grab it and make the tactical decision to press it to the worse of the two injuries, not processing or caring that you're ruining incredibly expensive designer clothing. You hadn't meant to cut this deep. It's actually somewhat disturbing, you're always much more destructive than you intend to be. You're really bad and controlling yourself when it comes to this.

You rest your head against the desk and try to relax. You're a lot more clear now, being able to ground yourself to the throbbing pain. You're not hyperventilating which is good. This isn't saying you're calm, you're just the opposite, but you can get a grip and try to hide it now. The problem is, you're not sure if you can walk anymore. The bleeding hasn't stopped and you've already managed to completely stain the jacket.

Tugging down your sleeves you throw the switchblade and jacket into the drawer and attempt to stand. You use your better arm to support yourself on the desk as you try to stabilize. After a few minutes you can move without your vision fading so you decide to go back to the set. Right before you open the door you realize blood is covering your hands. You should probably fix that.

You wander down the hall to the bathroom, gaining more composure as you walk. You enter the room and wash your hands straight away. You think someone else is in here but you ignore them. Once all the red is gone you look up at the other person. It's your assistant and he looks incredibly concerned, maybe alittle scared.

"Are you okay? Was that blood?"

"Had a nosebleed, going back to the set now. Could you get me coffee? Anything, please. Even from the break room."

"Sure."

"Thanks." With that you leave and walk back to the set, sending a group message telling everyone to come back. Once you get to the room a few people are already there but a majority are still missing. You lean against the wall and begin the waiting game. A few minutes in your assistant walks over to you with a cup.

"Here's this, I'll go get you something else."

"Thank you."

The rest of the crew is finally present so you start up the scene you were working on before you had to leave. Nobody seems to realize that you're bleeding pretty heavily under your shirt. you don't know how to feel about it. While you should be happy that they don't suspect anything it would be nice to know someone pays attention to you. Time passes slowly and you can feel the blood sticking to the wool fabric.

You feel someone touch your shoulder lightly and you turn to them, expecting your assistant. Instead you get Dirk, and he looks incredibly worried. This is not what you need, if he goes to the office he'll see the blood that you couldn't catch. You stare at him until your assistant hands you coffee.

"I ran into your brother at Starbucks so he decided to help me with your drink." He explains.

"Thank you." You try to smile but it's so incredibly forced that you give up. Dirk is watching you, reading you with such a knowing look that you want to cringe. Your assistant probably told him about your 'nosebleed.' Dirk is far too intelligent to fall for that excuse, it was such a shitty one in the first place. You're honestly fucked any way you look at it. Why did you do this? You're disgustingly selfish, it makes you sick

"We need to talk." He says, barely even a whisper.

"I can't right now, it'll have to wait." You reply as composed as you possibly can. You still sound distant, somewhat disturbed.

"Please." He has a slightly frantic tone to his voice, he's basically begging.

You look at him for a few seconds before nodding slightly. The look on his face says this is necessary. You apologize to the group, telling them you have to deal with something. You're sure he already knows you relapsed, it's probably obvious to him. Together you walk to the office, your footing unsteady the entire time. You get to the room where he sits down on the couch, you following suit.

"We need to stop your bleeding. It's seeping through."

"Okay," You whimper weakly before awkwardly extending your arms. He takes a deep breath before caressing your cheek and pulling up the damp sleeves. He sighs heavily at the sight of the two deep, jagged and incredibly uneven cut along with the blood smeared all over your arms.

"You were really upset, weren't you?" He asks softly, pressing tissue to one of your arms. You're not sure where he got those from. You're still pretty unaware of what's going on around you.

"I couldn't see or hear, I- I didn't know what else to do. It's all I could think about. Fuck. I'm sorry, I didn't even try to stop. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, i'm not mad." When he says this you sob, unable to stop yourself. He shushes you softly, using his unoccupied hand to rub your shoulder reassuringly. "I'm not mad. Can you come home now or do you have more stuff to do?"

"I want to but I can't exactly leave without an excuse."

"I'll take care of it," Dirk smiles sadly, he looks tired and loving. It's an expression he only gets in situations like this. "Can I talk to them?"

"Please."

"Of course." He removes the tissues before trying to mop up some of the blood in the sleeve. He places a kiss to the small of your wrist where the cut didn't reach before carefully feeling around the wound. Once he's sure it's basically stopped bleeding he pulls down the damp fabric and moves to the opposite arm. He does the exact same thing as before and you're nearly breaking down by now. "You should be fine now. Keep an eye on it. Will you be okay alone?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Where's the knife?"

"In one of the drawers."

He walks over to the desk and sighs again once he sees the droplets of blood on the floor. He starts going through the drawers until he comes across the bloody jacket and switchblade.

"Oh, bro." He sounds so sad. "I'm going to hold onto this, okay?" He holds up the knife and you nod, "I'm going to tell them we have a family emergency or something. I'll be right back, just stay in here and try to relax. Everything is going to be okay."

* * *

You stare at your brother as he slouches on the couch and stares right back. You are so glad you decided to come today or something even worse might have happened. He must have been really desperate to go this far in a public setting. You wish you showed up earlier so you could have prevented this. You're starting to realize he has almost no control over his actions when he hurts himself. He gets to a place where he clings to any thought that would rationalize slicing through your arm.

"Please, just… Stay right here, alright?"

He nods and you try to gather enough courage to leave the room. You are so worried, so scared. You don't like how out of it Dave is. He was literally bleeding through his shirt, blood was running down his hand and he didn't even care. How could nobody notice something so blatantly obvious? You walk to the set quickly and as soon as you enter the room everyone stares at you. You've made up a pretty good excuse by now, you're not as good at lying as your brother but you can try.

"There's some shit going down with the family so we have to go. Dave will keep you guys updated."

You ignore all the questions and turn around to leave the room. In the hall you basically run back to the office. You know he couldn't do much damage in the few minutes you're gone but you still worry. When you enter Dave is sitting exactly where you left him. He looks so upset.

"I want to leave."

"We can do that. Just let me get the suit jacket and then I can drive us home."

You grab the blood stained jacket and try to hold it discreetly. You help Dave stand and soon you're making your way to the car. The drive to the apartment is short and tense. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the entire time. He's staring at his arms with a somber expression. You can tell he's regretting it.

"Bro, it's going to be okay."

"You can't say that for certain."

You pull into the parking lot and stop the car. Both of you climb out of the car and walk to the building. The doorman opens the door and Dave stumbles in, you following in toe. He's trying his best but the doorman still looks concerned, even doing a double take. In the elevator you hear him try to muffle a sob.

"We're almost home."

The door opens and you grab his hand lightly. Seconds later you're in the apartment and instantly Dave's hugging you. From what you can tell he's literally losing it. He's unraveling quickly and you know all you can do is hold him close as he cries.

* * *

"Dirk," you gasp, sobbing into his shoulder. "Dirk please." You try to take a breath but you just gasp again. "Help."

"I'm here." He whispers, running a hand down your back. "I'm right here. Just breathe, I'm here."

He lowers you to the ground, not making you move your face in the slightest. This makes it easier to cling onto him. It's silent for a few moments as you try to ignore the memories you've been attempting to escape all day. It just keeps flooding back and you can't maintain your footing. You just can't stop thinking. Thinking about all of the times bro decided it would be fun to use you as his plaything. About all of the disgusting married businessmen you gave sexual favors and when you let them take advantage of you. You always felt so bad for the wives they called bitches and sluts while they were fucking an actual whore.

"Fuck. I don't- I." You whisper, voice incredibly soft. Despite all of your loud thoughts your words are barely audible.

You are desperately trying to keep from literally losing it. That's pretty hard when you're so far gone already. Scenes from the past play out in your head. You want it to stop but you can't, you don't know how. You can only focus on the times bro completely took over and overpowered you. You don't think you'll ever forget the feeling of his hands around your neck.

"You're okay." Dirk rubs your back, holding you close. He sounds oddly breathless and very sad.

"I don't-" you're voice cuts off before you can finish. You try again, "I wa-" but you can't complete this thought either. Your next words are so desperate and broken that you don't even recognize your own voice. " _Help me_."

"I'm here, it's okay."

You sob into his neck with uneven shattered breaths, unable to get enough air. You gasp and cry, desperately trying to get ahold of yourself. "It's going to be alright. Just try to calm down. Try to breathe."

You shake your head as well as you can under his hand and continue to hyperventilate, leaning on him heavily and hiding your face. You can't breathe, you haven't been able to for hours. Ever since you cut yourself everything has been way too much. You try to inhale, only producing a hitched sob. You keep trying with multiple failures until you are able to take a breath. Between gasps for air you choke out odd pleas for help that hardly make sense.

"Keep breathing. I'm here to help, what do you need?" You want to scream in frustration because you have no idea what you need. Instead you let out a whimper, gripping the fabric of his shirt alittle tighter. He shushes you, resting a cheek on your hair.

"Shh, bro. Just try to stay calm. Keep breathing. I'm trying my best, that's all you can do too. I'm so sorry you have to go through this." You feel him hold you close. He sniffs and you feel him shudder slightly. He might be crying.

"It's going to be okay," His voice cracks and it confirms your suspicions, he is crying. "Everything is fine now. You're good, I'm good. That's all that matters, right?"

"He can ruin me."

"No he can't. If he said anything about your past he'd be ruined, not you."

"He's already ruined me."

"You're not ruined, not at all. What he did isn't you, it's just something that happened to you. It doesn't make you any less desirable. You are selfless and loving. The good things you've done far outnumber the bad things done to you."

"I did it, I let it happen. I let everyone take a little piece of me until there was _nothing_. I am nothing Dirk. I'm disgusting, I'm worthless, I'm a shameful excuse for a strider and now everyone knows. I'm a pitiful piece of shit who can't do anything for myself or say no to someone taking me and-"

"Shh," he cuts you off but you're grateful. You would have kept going if he didn't stop you. You would have said something dumb, not that you seem very intelligent right now anyways. "Bro it's okay. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"Then why?" You didn't mean to sound so broken, or to let out that shattered sob.

"I don't know." He replies softly, voice failing slightly. His words are still shaky and uneven, you feel bad about making him cry. "You don't deserve any of this."

"I must have done something wrong."

"No, you really didn't. You're the most wonderful person I know. It's terrible what you've had to go through. It's not fair. You're so kind and understanding to everyone, even when they don't deserve it."

You fall completely silent except for your uneven breathing. You're finally calming down, mind being blank and fuzzy. The conversation has helped you calm down. You get really caught up in your thoughts, it becomes a loop of fucked up scenarios. Scenarios that are literally impossible at this point in your life. You stay where you are for a few more minutes, holding him tightly until you eventually detach. You wipe your eyes, cough and look at him. He looks both happy and sad, you don't really understand.

"Can we go to bed?"

He nods and stands, helping you to do the same. It's honestly hard to get off the ground without falling. Together you walk to your room where he asks you to sit on the bed. You do so and he tells you he'll be right back. Then he disappears for a minute or two. During his absence you try to ignore the buzzing thoughts in the back of your head. You don't want to fall apart the moment he leaves. Then you'll seem ever more fucked up and pathetic. Not that it's hard for you to look like even more of a fucking mess.

When he finally returns he asks you to take off your shirt. You begrudgingly comply, feeling incredibly embarrassed as you do so. Whenever he can see all of your scars you don't even have the courage to look at him. You think he understands, he never makes you to stay this exposed for long. He hands you a random short sleeved shirt that you struggle to quickly put on. While you hate being without long sleeves you understand this is necessary for the time being.

Once that's done he sits next to you and you finally stop staring at the ground, when you look at him he smiles warmly. Slowly he takes your arms and runs a warm, slightly wet washcloth over the smeared blood. Using soft motions he wipes all of red off of your person. Even though he's gentle you hiss every time he brushes against the injuries. He looks at the cuts for awhile, you're not too sure why, it's honestly making you slightly uncomfortable. Finally he bandages you with care before saying you can lay down. You do so, instantly feeling incredibly drowsy and lightheaded. You honestly can't move when he settles down next to you. You feel his hands take yours and you're asleep in a matter of minutes.

* * *

Bro jumps awake while you're browsing the internet on your phone. You look at him, he's not crying, he's just staring at the ceiling. This behavior is unusual, his nightmares are usually followed by terrified crying. You wait but he doesn't move, he hardly breathes. Getting increasingly worried you softly call out to him.

"Bro?"

"Dun wanna talk 'bout it." he responds quickly, automatically. Your heart sinks because, while you don't want to think about it, you think you know what he dreamt about. He rolls over and shoves his face into a pillow. You move to touch him but the second your fingers touch his shoulder he flinches harshly. You quickly pull your hand back, apologizing.

"Pl'se dun touch." he has the really weird accent he only slips into when he's really upset.

"Okay," you whisper, "I'm sorry."

"Not ya fault."

You lay down again, listening to him panic silently. It's hard when he dreams of bro hurting him because he doesn't want you to touch him. Without touching him you can only comfort with words, and to be honest you have no idea what to say. Hugging is so much easier than figuring out what to say. After a few minutes he shifts slightly. You feel him take your hand, linking your fingers together. He's shaking so bad, you're sure he's incredibly uncomfortable.

You hold his hand and feel like crying. This is so fucking sad, so upsetting. You try so hard to help him through everything but you know there's nothing you can do. He won't talk about what bro did to him behind closed doors. You would never ask about it either, that would just trigger him. In all honestly you don't want to know. You wouldn't stop him if he started talking about it but it seems incredibly personal.

"You're safe," you say softly, brushing your thumb on his hand. "Everything is okay now. You're safe."

Minutes of silence pass, the sound of his crying and uneven breathing fill the space. Nearly 10 minutes elapse before he takes in a huge, gasping breath. This is followed by him clearing his throat and gritting out, "Dirk I need a drink. Please. You won't let me do what and I can't think about this anymore."

You know he means he wants to get drunk. You know he means you won't let him cut. While drinking isn't a good coping mechanism you can't say no. Sometimes you need that extra crutch, a small push to get even the smallest amount of control. You sigh and after a few seconds whisper, "okay, let's go watch tv and you can drink."

You wait for him to let go of your hand and sit up. You can see the tears on his face and how completely devastated he is. You help him out of bed where you walk out to the livingroom. He goes to the freezer and grabs a random bottle of alcohol. You gather some food and a soda before sitting on the couch together.

You turn on the tv and he starts chugging. You know from the past he can consume alot of alcohol in a short amount of time and you're going to make sure he doesn't go overboard. You grab the remote and start switching through channels. Nothing is on this late so you settle for some sort of horror movie marathon. Almost 20 minutes pass until he slips his hand into yours and takes a few more large shots.

You continue to absently watch the tv, eating chips and sipping on orange soda. The shitty movie drags on and you realize bro is taking shots more frequently. You can tell he's getting lost in everything, not exactly paying attention to what he's doing. You decide he maybe needs a break.

"Slow down," you tell him softly and he nods, setting the container on the ground. He always seems to understand what you say is to help him. He never gets defensive, he never questions you.

"Hey, uh, Dirk?" He slurs out, voice small and sad.

"Yeah?"

"Can we sleep out here?"

"On the futon?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, if you put the back down I'll get blankets." He nods and you stand, going to both of your rooms to collect all the blankets and pillows in the apartment. You come back, finding him sitting on the folded down mattress with the bottle right back in his hand. Well, that break wasn't long. "Can you get up for a sec?"

He sits on the floor and you start putting blankets on the stiff futon, attempting to make it more comfortable. Then you gather up every pillow and arrange them until you're satisfied. You tell him he can get back on and he puts the cap on the bottle, placing it on the coffee table with the soda and chips. You got his phone from his room earlier and decide to set the alarm for him. You put your devices on the table with everything else before turning to him.

He climbs on the mattress with sloppy movements, curling up in the pile of blankets. When you follow he pulls you close and you let out a small sigh of relief. You arrange the rest of the blankets over the both of you, essentially making a nest. You're rather tired so you tuck into his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

While he smells like alcohol it's not overpowering. He still has a semblance of control and that's all you really care about. If he has that he'll come to you if he gets really upset. He watches the tv as you nuzzle into him, yawning. It's so relaxing when he runs light fingers across your back, and you're lulled even further by the white noise of the tv. He's okay now, he's letting you in and you're much less anxious.

"Dirk," he mutters softly. You hum as a response, "I'm having a really hard time."

"I know," you respond, touching the scars under his collarbone.

"I hate bro," he's so quiet you can hardly hear, "he fucked me up bad."

"You're not fucked up," you ooze sincerity and affection, "not at all. I love you." He sighs and pulls you alittle closer, kissing the top of your head, and as per usual proceeding to bury his face in your hair.

"I wish he was dead." He mumbles and you make an enthusiastic noise of agreement, you wish he was dead or at least locked away. Maybe tortured, set on fire, murdered, killed, anything along those lines. You're brought out of your murderous fantasy when he continues, "I wonder what I'd be like without him." You shrug lightly and he shifts, getting closer to you. Both of you are cuddly bastards, more than what might be considered normal, "I guess it's hard to say. He's basically responsible for everything I am."

"You're you," you tell him solidly and feel him exhale shakily, "you're you even without bro. He's not who you are, he's just shaped parts of you. And that's not bad, it's not. In an anime I watched they said, 'If you've known hardship and pain it's easier to be kind to others.' and I think that's true. The things he's done to you, what you've gone through, it all makes you stronger. You're your own person, you're not bro, you're not what people say about you." You look up at him, red eyes meet orange and you repeat the sentiment, "you're whoever you want to be."

"I don't know what you see in me but thank you. Thank you for believing in me," he whispers, an oddly mournful tone to his voice. "We got the best kid right here, absolute fucking best."

"Best brother," you parrot, feeling a silent and sad chuckle, "absolute fucking best."


	21. Chapter 21

Trigger warnings- panic attack

* * *

"Bro! Come meet my friend."

You sigh and open your eyes. You were about to fall back asleep and don't want to meet anyone. You just had a dream that really fucked you up, you can hardly think about it without wanting to break down. You don't feel well, in all honestly you feel like shit. But it's for dirk, and you can always do it for dirk. You get up from the bed, smooth down your hair and slip on your shades. Once you think you look somewhat acceptable you walk out into the livingroom.

If you hadn't already plastered on your poker face you would have jumped at the sight in front if you. Rose fucking Lalonde is standing in your livingroom with her daughter by her side. She looks just as beautiful and regal in person and you are so, so jealous. This is just unfair. Dirk looks extremely hesitant, almost sad once he sees your demeanor and reaction.

"Well isn't this fancy? It's like a meeting of the minds." You smirk lightly. "Uh, it's nice to meet you. I'm Dave." You want to cringe at how awkward you are.

"I'm aware, and I assume you know who I am." Oh wow, she doesn't like you at all. What were you expecting?

"Bro, Roxy and I are gonna go to my room." Dirk tells you hesitantly. You give him a look that plainly reads, 'don't fucking leave me,' but he just flashes an apologetic one in response. You almost lose it when you realize you have no other choice.

"Bye mister strudel! Have fun getting a therapy session from my mom!" They disappear into the other room chattering happily. Now you're alone with one of the few people you look up to- and she hates you. You don't know what to do.

"Um, would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you." She moves to sit on the futon. You grab a chair from the kitchen and sit a good distance away. Not wanting to look at her you end up admiring the embroidery on the skirt of her fitted black velvet dress. You're so underdressed and disheveled in comparison. This isn't how you wanted to meet her.

"Your apartment really is something else." She comments after a few minutes of silence.

"What can I say? Strides are great interior decorators." You try your best to sound normal but it hardly works.

"I can see that. The weapons are a nice touch, and what is that red thing in the corner?"

"That's a smuppet. Dirk makes them."

"And the posters?"

"Those are Dirks."

"Anime figures?"

"Dirks."

"Let me guess, all of the random things in here are your brothers."

"That's about right."

"And what parts are yours?"

"The books and movies. Uh, that bust of snoop dogg and Obama, there's probably more but I can't remember." Honestly there isn't any more, you don't own much. You don't feel the need to have a bunch of random shit.

"Why do you let him decorate?"

"I don't have a specific reason."

You not having much of your own identity might be a factor, but there's no reason to bring that up. Is lapses into silence again, you can hear dirk and his friend literally yelling in the other room. You fiddle with your hands while staring at the geometric pattern on the cream rug. You wish you were confident enough to actually speak to her, but the timing for this meeting couldn't be worse.

"You're very different than I was expecting." She says unexpectedly and you almost flinch.

"What do you mean?" You ask apprehensively. You don't know if you actually want the answer.

"You're always so outspoken and roundabout in interviews, and now you just seem meek."

Wow, that hurt. You want to leave, you don't know why everyone does this. They always judge without even knowing you. Instead you swallow down the lump in your throat, fold your hands in your lap and remain neutral. You were not expecting to be insulted by Rose Lalonde in your own livingroom.

"What about me? Am I like what you expecting." She inquires and you look at her for a second or two.

"Uh, yeah, basically. You're beautiful, articulate and intelligent." Everything you're not. You smile weakly, being honest for once.

"Thank you." She says softly, tone of voice much more gentle than anything she's said earlier.

"So do you want something to drink? I have coffee and orange soda." You want to be polite but you also want an excuse to leave and compose yourself.

"Do you have any wine?" She asks and you sigh, of course she wants one of the only things you don't have.

"No, sorry. I have whiskey though." Maybe she's looking for alcohol, you can definitely provide that.

"Well, I suppose that works too."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

First you go back to your room to cover the blood stains on your bed and hide the bloody clothes. You lean against the wall for a few minutes, trying incredibly hard to stay in control. You fight back the tears in your eyes and take a deep breath, but you can't stop the single hitched sob that leaves you.

Next, you double check the bathroom to make sure the medical supplies were put away. Once all of that is situated you go to the kitchen. You put ice into two glasses and then take the bottle out of the freezer. You pour some alcohol into each glass before putting it back. You walk over and hand her a glass. Right before you sit she stops you.

"Come now Dave, sit next to me. I don't bite."

You're not comfortable with that and you wish she could understand. You stand for a few seconds, seriously contemplating jumping off the porch, before sitting next to her. She smells like vanilla cream and lavender, from this close you can see her expertly done makeup. You take a drink before staring at the liquid in the glass. Why is everyone always so much better than you?

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I honestly wasn't expecting you to behave like this. I was certain you would be brazen and pompous." Once again you almost flinch at her words. Is that really the impression you give off? That's not what you're going for.

"You're fine." You lie.

"Okay," she takes a drink and sighs lightly before inspecting at. You can't stop yourself from shying away. You don't know why your mask is failing so miserably right now. It always falls apart around people you idolize. She looks almost sad, like she's regretting something. "So, I think it's odd that we haven't met before now. Roxy and Dirk have been friends for years."

"I've seen you at events."

"Likewise, but you never talk to anyone unless they talk to you."

Because nobody likes you.

"Is there a reason?"

You shrug and take another drink while she watches you curiously. You just want to go back to bed, you never wanted to meet her. You never wanted any of this. You're not worthy. Now she knows you're a fake, a fraud who created an entirely false personality.

"Let me tell you something." She looks at you, it seems like she's trying to get you to maintain eye contact. It's nearly impossible for you to look at her. You just don't know how she can tell with your shades on.

"When Roxy and I were younger our mom was killed in a house fire. I was around 18 and Roxy was 6 at the time. Apparently a space heater in her study caught some curtains on fire. Our mom died saving us and our cat from the flames. She passed out from smoke inhalation before the firefighters could arrive. Fortunately we had a large inheritance and cashed out on a huge life insurance policy. So while we were alone we were provided for. From then on I acted as Roxy's mother, writing books to pass the time."

You don't understand why she's telling you any of this.

"We're the same age along with Roxy and Dirk being the same age. That means we had to care for them under similar circumstances, right?"

No, that's not right. It's not right at all and you literally cannot have this conversation, especially with her. You've never been in a situation like this where the person questioning isn't your brother. Somehow you're saved by dirks friends voice ringing through the apartment.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

"Yes, Roxy?" Rose sighs and calls back.

"Dirks gotta do shit so we should go to the hotel. I wanna swim!" She answers happily.

"Oh, alright. I hope we can talk again soon, Dave." He stands and you follow suit.

"It was nice meeting you." You reply awkwardly.

"The pleasure is mine." She smiles and you try to smile back. When you hear dirk you deflate slightly. This will all be over soon.

"No, I don't know anymore. He kept saying that we'd be great together if I was a girl. It made me really uncomfortable." Dirk mumbles in the other room before walking into the main area.

"Well then I got cha' all to myself! And lil' janey won't have any competition." His friend replies happily and he groans.

"Roxy, stop." Even though he's obviously annoyed it's lighthearted.

"You're no fun." She jokes back.

You walk them to the door where Dirk and Roxy hug. They say their goodbyes, rose waves and you close the door. Instantly you let out a long, exhausted and defeated sigh.

"I'm sorry bro, I didn't think she'd stay that long."

"Why is everyone so much better than me?" Your voice is tight and you end with a sob. You always feel incredibly inadequate and inferior compared to everyone. And having what you should and want to be sitting next to you makes you want to die.

"No, that's not true bro." He says softly, running a hand over your arm.

"Didn't you see her? She's so put together and perfect and I'm- I'm,"

A knock echoes through the room and you jump. This situation just keeps getting worse. His hand rests on your shoulder as he looks at you and then the door. After a second or two he huffs.

"I got this, go lay down, I'll be right there."

You nod and retreat into your room, closing the door softly. You go back to curling into yourself on the bed, only now you feel the need to muffle your crying. You try to calm down, hoping Dirk can take care of the situation.

/.../

"Uh, Roxy, hey. Why are you back?" You're trying to stay polite but you really need to get back to Dave.

"I forgot my phone. Should be in your room, I could get it." Roxy replies and you contemplate your options. You don't want her to somehow hear Dave.

"No, that's okay. Just stay there."

You run to your room, glad you can't hear bro most likely sobbing. You come across a pink cat phone case and let out a sigh of relief. You bring it to her and she thanks you happily. Her mom is glancing around the apartment and you can't help but remember what bro said. That he thinks she's perfect. While she is beautiful you don't see how he could get the word perfect. Maybe he looks up to her.

"Dirk, is your brother alright?" Rose asks quietly. You're suddenly somewhat nervous.

"He's fine, why?"

"Well, isn't he crying?" You would have looked shocked if you weren't a strider.

"Um? I don't think so?"

"Ya mom, you're hearing things again. Let's go. I'll see you tomorrow di stri!"

"Bye."

You close the door and instantly go to his room. When you open the door he's right where you were expecting. He's curled up on his bed, crying softly. You have no idea how she heard him crying from out there. You can hardly hear him and you're a foot away. You sit next to him and pet his hair while you wait until he's calmed slightly. Eventually he speaks, voice broken and upset.

"Kid, do you think I'm immature?" He's so sad, you wish you could make him feel better about himself.

"No. Why?"

"Well… I can't really control my emotions, like at all. I'm just not at the same place mentally as other people my age. I mean, you take care of me more than I do you. And I'm really behind when it comes to actual intelligence like math and reasoning. I just feel really immature and dumb most of the time."

"You're," you pause for a moment, "hurt. You've been hurt by others and yourself your whole life, and I think it takes a long time for wounds like that to heal. What you've been doing up until now isn't healing, it's surviving." Your fingers brush against the red scars on his arm where his sleeve rode up, maybe trying to make a point.

"I think it takes a high level of maturity to put up with everything you do, and to function as well as you do considering what you've gone and are going through. You had to grow up very quickly in order to take care of me, and you had to live through things nobody should. So, no, I don't think you're immature. I think you're brave, you're really brave and strong. I look up to you."

"You're so nice." It sounds like he's going to cry again. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with me, with all of this. I'm such a fucking mess."

"It's okay, it doesn't bother me at all. I want to help."

/.../

"So did you call Dirk's bro an arrogant asshole like you wanted? There was no verbal sparring match like you predicted." Roxy asks as you climb into the rental car.

"No, none of the encounter went the way I expected." You reply while trying to back out without hitting a car or two. Traffic in California is always so hard to maneuver, you're not use to it.

"You were so ready with a speech and everything. You even gave the passive aggressive intro." You frown slightly at these words. You did use the passive aggressive intro, didn't you? You were so rude.

"Well, I changed my mind." You say simply.

"Suddenly all of your previous complaints are gone?" She laughs and you give her a side glance.

"Roxy, that man is depressed. It's not just your run of the mill depression. It's the type that makes celebrities hide until they break and kill themselves. If I said anything like I was planning he would have broken down. I may have judged him prematurely." You feel stupid for parading into his house with set expectations. Especially because your expectations were so incredibly wrong.

"I told you he's nice! Dirk always talks about how awesome his brother is. He did it way before he was famous too. And he's always really nice when I overhear them talking during skype calls." She smiles widely and continues dramatically, "strides truly are gentle creatures at heart."

"I do want to know more about him. He said two slightly sarcastic things before I had to ask him a question to get him to speak. It's such a sharp contrast to his media performance. When I told him I thought he would be different and he got upset. I asked him to sit next to me and he got visibly uncomfortable. He has exactly the opposite reaction of what I would expect. It's like he never interacts with anyone."

"They don't go out, I know that. Never have."

"What do you recall about them before Dave made it big?"

"I know they were poor as balls. There were months that dirk didn't talk to us because his brother couldn't pay for electricity. He didn't have an actual cell phone until he was nearly 14, until then he used a super shitty prepaid one that he never let us text. He said it was for emergencies. He once told me he was really worried because his brother never slept or ate. He apparently went out at night alot, I dunno, I never really payed attention. He talked about his brother alot and for long periods of time, it got kinda weird and boring after awhile."

"Do you know what his job was?"

"Nah. Dirk never mentioned it."

"Hmm…"

* * *

Rose came over again, she dropped roxy off but stayed when the kids went out together. You've been talking to her for hours about meaningless, trivial things. She's told you numerous random facts about herself, and you've stayed silent the whole time. You're scared to say the wrong thing. Now she keeps asking you questions about yourself. Things that you don't want to talk about, things that don't even apply to your life. It's beginning to be too much and you can't handle this anymore.

"Rose, why are you doing this?" You ask suddenly, voice tight. She looks surprised, you hadn't shown any emotion until now.

"What do you mean?" She's honestly confused.

"Why does any of this concern you?" You don't understand why she's doing any of this.

"I didn't mean to offend you."

You just stare because this is honestly way too much. You just want to be alone, you want to run and hide. She's looking right at you are you are seriously about to break down. You're so envious of everything about her. While you don't look very distressed you are an honest to god mess. You want to die, to disappear. You just want to be worth something.

"Are you alright?" You almost laugh at her words but end up nodding.

Unexpectedly she grabs your hand and you flinch harshly. You don't like this at all. Why is she touching you? What does she want? Her hands are warm soft around your cold, shaking ones. You don't move, you hardly breathe. You want this whole situation to stop. You flinch again when she shifts slightly.

"Dave," You stop and look at her hesitantly. She's looks truly concerned, "I'm sorry I keep upsetting you. I just want to get to know you."

"Please let go."

Her eyes go wide as she quickly lets go of you. Awkwardly you stand up to retreat to your bedroom. Hopefully she'll leave you alone now that she knows you're this fucked up. Of course the first time someone tries to get to know you it ends with you getting too overwhelmed to talk. You collapse against the wall, bring your knees to your chest and cover your mouth to muffle the sobs filling the room.

/.../

You sit in the livingroom of Dave Strider's apartment, somewhat shocked that he just ran away. You sigh as you look at the random things in random places. Most of it you can identify as things Roxy enjoys, so they must belong to dirk. You honestly can't find much that you are sure is dave's, you can't even find his awards. You know he has just as many as you.

The books he's collected are various obscure novels, comics, and oddly, classical literature like Shakespeare. You spy your own work in one of the numerous piles. The collection of movies is extensive and about what you were expecting. He has so many boxes and disks scattered about that you don't recognize the majority. Next you gravitate to the old, stained futon. You're curious as to why there are a few pieces of broken furniture in here.

Standing you walk into the kitchen. You start by looking through the pantry and cupboards, finding mainly junk food. The refrigerator is about the same except for various bottles of alcohol and old takeout. You're inspecting the bathroom, looking through drawers when you come across a well used first aid kit with gauze next to it. Just then you hear a broken sob behind the connected door. That must be Dave, you don't know why you're not surprised that he's crying. You sit against the door and think about what to say. Eventually with a soft voice you call out to him.

"Dave, I feel like everything I do upsets you. I don't know what to say." You sigh when you hear him gasp, "I think we can relate to eachother, but it seems you don't enjoy talking about yourself at all. I'm sorry if I offended you, I know I was cold our first encounter and for that I apologize. If you don't want to talk to me I understand. Just know I won't tell anyone about this."

You hear a few more broken sobs as a response. You feel bad for him, he obviously has very little control over this. He probably feels helpless, embarrassed and ashamed.

"Just say if you want me to leave."

There's no response and for some reason you're relieved. Honestly you're worried for him. You don't know if he always goes through this alone. Hopefully not.

"Dave, may I come in? I promise I won't touch you again." He hasn't said anything and you don't know if you're getting anywhere. He isn't sobbing heavily anymore, that's promising.

After a few minutes you hear a him cough a few times, followed by a short gasp. It takes awhile but once he evens out his breathing he exhales deeply. Finally you hear him mutter brokenly, "okay."

Slowly you open the door, surprised it wasn't locked. His room is dark, warm and red. You see piles upon piles of papers stacked on a desk, file boxes accompanying them. Empty bottles of alcohol are scattered about. You now know why you couldn't find his awards earlier, they're clustered on his dresser haphazardly. There's a laptops on the bed, two phone chargers plugged into an outlet. When you finally spot dave you think you're getting the picture.

He's sitting against the wall, curled in on himself. You can see his shades in front of him and how much he's shaking. He's hiding his face but one of his hands is gripping the fabric of his sleeve. It looks like he's trying to stop himself from doing something. You cautiously sit against the same wall, but keeping a good distance away. For a few minutes you just listen to him cry softly. You don't know what you did to bring this about.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles,"I wish I could say I'm not usually like this but I am."

"There's no reason to apologize." You tell him but that doesn't seem to help much.

"You sound like Dirk." He laughs, turning into a hitched sob at the end.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure." He wipes his face before slipping on his shades and sitting cross legged. He faces you, but like before you're sure he's not actually looking at don't understand why he has such a hard time with eye contact, you can tell even through his shades.

"What did I say?" You ask and he laughs again, honestly you don't follow most of his reactions.

"You didn't say anything."

"I didn't do anything? So this isn't because of me?" You're trying to make sure, because you're certain you said something that made him this upset.

"It's not your fault. You didn't say anything that upset me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." You exhale, this is odd. He's very hard to read. While you're relieved you didn't cause this you're still quite confused. Maybe he's lying.

"It's not you, I'm always like this. I guess I'm just not use to this type of situation."

"To what type of situation?" All you were doing was talking, well mostly you talking at him.

"Having an actual conversation with someone. Sorry."

"It's fine, really." That does help clear things up, he's not use to one on one interaction. No wonder he looks so incredibly nervous all the time. He doesn't speak for awhile, you watch him try to take deep breaths. You hear every time the air catches and when he tries to muffle a small sob in the back of his throat. Eventually you hear an incredibly sad sentence, spoken quietly.

"You must think I'm really pathetic, huh?"

"No, I don't. If anything I like you more now." You try to match his tone, try to seem completely genuine. You knew he would be ashamed and honestly you feel bad for him, you've never met someone this heartbreakingly depressed.

"Um, thanks." He smiles shyly and that makes you feel even worse about all the passive aggressive things you said the other day. You must have really hurt his feelings, you could tell when you said them but you didn't put much mind into his reactions.

"Dave, I would like to be your friend."

He just stares at you. Anyone else would find such a sudden proclamation as odd, funny coming from someone of your standing, but not him. It looks like you said the most confusing thing he's ever heard. You wonder why he's so perplexed. His fingers lace together as he looks away while clearing his throat.

"I've seen the personality you've hidden and I would like to get to know you better. We have alot in common, I assure you. I won't judge you, I'll try my best to make sure you're comfortable. So what do you say?"

"Yeah." He takes a deep breath and finally looks at you, you can tell he's slightly more open now. "Sure. What do you wanna know?"

"Well, what do you like to do? I enjoy writing and knitting. Things of a grim nature along with psychoanalysis." You're going to start small, if he doesn't have much experience with one on one interaction you shouldn't try to initiate a deep and meaningful conversation right away. Keep things basic, friendly.

"Uh, I don't really know. I ironically draw, make music. Well, and movies. But that's probably a given." He looks extremely embarrassed, a light blush while playing with his hands.

"I would assume so. I didn't know most of that though. You really don't tell the media anything." You're going to try to keep the discussion away from him directly, move to things around him and see if he'll open up through that. Most times you asked about his family or past he just stared at you, so you figure you'll have better luck with the present.

"It's gotten to the point that I'll basically go along with anything they suggest. If all of the paparazzi have different stories who's right?" A small joke, you're getting somewhere.

"Can't argue with that logic. I like the pile of boxes."

"Oh yeah, thank my producers. Wonderful housewarming gift." His producers gave him all of those? That's more file boxes than you have for all of your books, and that number is far higher than two movies. You're worried about that workload.

"What are those jars?" You see a collection of jars on a shelf, it looks like there's little creatures in some type of liquid.

"Those are… dead animals." He says this with a hesitant edge, you're sure he thinks you're going to judge him. You're going to take this chance to let him know that you don't think he's odd or weird.

"May I look at them?"

He shrugs so you stand and walk to the shelf full of various preserved animals. A few of the jars look very old, some look like they were just sealed. There are a collection of black birds all different sizes, small mammals, even reptiles. Some of the jars are cloudy, it looks like the animals are decaying even though they're sealed away. Those are the jars sealed with duct tape, old dates going back 15 years written on them with red permanent marker. While some of the jars are completely clear, it looks like the fluid has been changed to keep the animal from falling apart.

"How old are these?"

"Most of them are from my childhood."

"Why do you keep them?"

"Nobody cares about a dead animal on the side of the road." That wasn't the answer you were expecting. It's sweet really.

"And you do."

"Basically."

"Are these crows?"

"Aren't they pretty?" The moment he says this he cringes. Obviously that wasn't meant to be said it out loud.

"They are." You see him smile and you celebrate to yourself. Maybe this is actually working. "What happened to them?"

"Most of those slammed into windows of my old apartment. It was so sad, such a pretty animal just left to rot away on the street." You can't help but think it's nice he finds such beauty in death.

"That is sad." Every time you say something that's non-judgemental he looks at you for a few more seconds. It's like he's trying to gauge your sincerity.

"What happened to these kittens?" There are two jars with two small kittens in each. They look like they were posed to be hugging each other. Honestly it's a sad scene.

"I don't really want to talk about that." He replies and you don't push it, you're making so much progress already. While inspecting a mouse that's basically in three separate pieces you hear a muffled buzz. You look at Dave who's looking at his phone, he seems annoyed. That was a quick moodswing.

"I'm really sorry, I have to take this." He pauses and looks around, probably regretting letting you in his room. "Um, actually could we go back to the livingroom? It's pretty dark in here."

"Of course."

He picks up the phone and tells whoever to, 'please wait minute.' Then he leads you out of his room and you sit back on the futon.

"I'll just be out on the porch. Help yourself to whatever."

He walks onto the porch and you watch him for a minute. He's pale, thin, and obviously exhausted. You stand and look through the cabinets until you come across some cups. You pour yourself some apple juice and wait for his return.

/.../

You hang up the phone and groan. Someone just called asking how to sync the video and audio, this is basic shit. Basic shit that they should have learned in school. Then, when you tell them to ask the team they tell you none of them are there. Apparently the editing team likes to ditch on all of your days off. That explains so much. You collect yourself and go back into the livingroom. Rose is sitting on the couch with a glass in her hand.

"I'm really sorry about that. One of the editors got confused."

"Confused? So they called you?"

"Yup. I am my staffs go-to-guy when they can't figure something out."

"And how often can they not figure something out?"

"quite frequently."

She was about to reply when suddenly Dirk and Roxy burst into the apartment wearing incredibly frilly and fancy dresses. Roxy's is pink while dirk's is yellow. They do a synchronized dance and pose that you know they practiced for awhile before they came in. Both you and rose laugh. They're so excited.

"Oh wow." Rose is the first to speak, a grin plastered on her face.

"You look very cute." You tell them and they smile brightly.

"Would you venture to say… kawaii?" Dirk asks happily.

"Uh yeah, but isn't that the same?"

"Yeah, whatever. Don't ruin this with logic." Dirk mumbles and you hold up your hands in an 'I surrender' position.

"Dirk even shaved his legs!" Roxy calls out.

"Don't you always do that?" You ask quietly.

"Yeah, but that's beside the point. Don't we look like magical girls?" He does another pose.

"Like from that show?"

"Yes, the one we watched a long time ago."

"You do, it looks like you could go beat up a bunch of thugs in that lil skirt. You look quite cute too Roxy, it matches your hair and eyes."

"Thanks Mr. Strudel! Dirky and I spent a lot of time, money and effort on these outfits. We're going to a comic convention on friday, this is our test run."

"Roxy come here." Rose requests and she walks over and dirk follows, sitting next to you. "Turn around." Roxy does and rose starts adjusting and pulling on fabric. "I wish you showed me this sooner, Kanaya could have tailored them for you."

"We wouldn't get them back until weeks later if she tailored them. It'd come back completely different." Roxy groans.

"Bro, feel." Dirk tells you, holding out his arm. You stroke the fabric, finding it incredibly soft.

"Holy shit." You murmur in awe.

"Mom stop you're suffocating me!" You hear Roxy groan, struggling against roses hold.

"Stop complaining, beauty is pain." Rose responds calmly, continuing to mess with the ties.

"Kid, you could have asked me to buy this." You whisper to him, you feel bad he payed for this whole ensemble on his own. It looks rather expensive, the fabric and lace are high quality.

"I know. But the amount of money you gave me in Texas will last until I die. $200 a week adds up quickly. Honestly I have more in my savings than most adults." He whispers back. You never put any thought about how much money you were actually giving him.

"You're not doing this to dirk!" Roxy literally yells, both of you brought out of your hushed conversation.

"Because his actually fits."

"Bullshit! It's made for girls!" She counters.

"Hey, I have hella feminine charm so don't start. This is a custom order anyways, so it better fit or I have an angry review to write." Dirk actually looks offended, gotta fix that.

"You guys look great, very anime."

"Thanks bro." He smiles and you smirk.

"See! Dirk's bro is taking it as it is! Stop! I'm gonna faint!" You didn't know someone could be this loud.

"Fine." She lets go and Roxy jumps away. "But you're letting me fix it before you go to the convention."

"Oh hell no."


	22. Chapter 22

this connects to the last chapter  
get ready for spelling mistakes  
tw- mentions of death, child abuse and the sex trade

* * *

"Bro I have a proposition." Dirk walks into your room and lays next to you on the bed. He looks determined, you've seen this face before. Its when he tries to convince you to do something you'd obviously object to, you wonder what he has in store for you today.

"Okay then, shoot." You turn to him, you're just going to get this over with.

"So you've hung out with rose for like, 5 days now, right?" Here's his intro, the hook, and those amber eyes are incredibly committed to this idea.

"Where are you going with this?" You ask with a heavy sigh, he moves just a bit closer.

"Well, she suggested that you guys have a movie night, basically a sleepover." He tells you hopefully, smiling at you. Honestly at first you were sure you heard him wrong. But after a few seconds you realize he's being serious.

"Dirk I am not going to have a fucking sleepover with Rose Lalonde." No, absolutely fucking not, that's the worst idea you've heard. It looks like he was expecting that reaction.

"Come on bro! It'll be fun. Roxy and I will be at the hotel and you guys can stay here, get wine drunk and cry over the notebook or something like that." He's really trying to convince you. He usually drops suggestions if you say no, but not this time. He even started running a hand through your hair, you feel like that might be cheating.

"No, do you know how bad this could potentially be? What if she saw like… any part of my body?" Your sleeve riding up is a very real possibility. You just can't take a chance like that, Dirk knowing you cut is enough. It's way more than enough.

"You mean your scars?" He asks softly, rubbing your arm lightly, he's always so damn understanding it's insane.

"Yes, that, my goddamn cut up skin." You grumble, frowning. His hand moves to your cheek, caressing softly.

"You hid it from me for years. I think one night will be easy." That's actually pretty good reasoning. You're still not sure, it's honestly getting really hard to hide.

"Kid, you don't get it. She peers into your mind, your fucking soul. It's the weirdest thing I've ever experienced. A whole night with her spells trouble."

"Bro you're such a dweeb. Rose is totally into the idea. She bought wine already, an expensive bottle according to Roxy. Are you really gonna leave her hanging?" Now he's just being manipulative, but you can't bring yourself to be mad. He's just trying to make you have fun.

"Ugh," why can't you bring yourself to say no?

"Is that a yes?"

"Fine."

"Yay!" He hugs you, squeezing tight. He's thrilled, almost too eager. "Thank you! This will be great!"

"What if it actually doesn't go well?" Despite his excitement you can feel yourself getting nervous already. There are so many ways her staying that long can go wrong. He can probably sense your apprehension because he goes back to running soft fingers through your hair.

"Then call me and I'll come right back, don't worry. If you get really uncomfortable or anxious go to bed and tell her to call me." You nod, "Just try not to overthink it, you said she was really easy to talk to once you calmed down, right? So just try to think about it like that, it will be easy once you drink a glass or two and get comfortable."

"I'll try, I hope you're right about this."

* * *

"Hello Dave, are you ready for our play date?" Rose asks when you open the door. You just drank a large amount of alcohol, the wait for her to arrive was tense. You cleaned the whole apartment, getting rid of any trace of blood or bandage. You're incredibly hesitant and jittery, you don't know if you actually want to do this anymore.

"As ready as i'll ever be, come in." You're trying very hard to sound and appear calm and normal. She walks in and you close the door behind her. You watch her remove her heels before walking to the livingroom with you.

"Could you put this in the fridge for me?" At the futon she hands you a bottle of expensive looking wine and sits. You grab the wine and put it in the refrigerator. You eventually turn to her, standing, collecting your thoughts.

"I'm honestly at a loss here. I don't think I can entertain you for a whole night."

"Oh the entertaining won't be one sided, a conversation takes two. I think it'll be great fun! Why don't we start with dinner?"

"Unless you like frozen pizza we're going to have to order something."

"Well, frozen pizza is a rarity, I believe that should compliment the wine excellently."

"Really?"

"I don't jest, get that pizza in the oven Strider."

"Right away, Lalonde."

She chuckles so you preheat the oven and remove a pizza from the freezer. You stare at the oven, waiting for it to preheat. It's fancy and high tech so it should only take a minute or two.

"May I browse your movie collection?"

"Go ahead, Dirk organized them so have fun trying to figure that out."

"It looks to be categorized by color and genre."

"Yeah that sounds right. He organizes them in different ways when he's bored."

The oven dings, indicating it was preheated. You remove the pizza from the package before sliding it on the rack. Taking note of the time you shuffle back to the futon. Rose is holding an old VHS tape you stole from a thrift store when you were a teenager.

"What is this?"

"That's an obscure Japanese horror movie from the 90s."

"Is it any good?"

"I'd say so but I guess you have to like that type of stuff."

"I happen to like that type of stuff."

You realize you smell the pizza and decide it's probably time to get it out of the oven. You stand, walk to the kitchen and retrieve the pizza. As your cutting it rose asks to bring the bottle of wine and some glasses. You do so, setting them on the coffee table before getting the pizza and putting it beside the bottle. She looks at you, obviously happy.

"When Roxy told me you agreed to my slumber party idea i was surprised. Don't get me wrong, I'm ecstatic! I just didn't expect you to say yes."

"Dirk helped convince me."

"Well I'm very excited. I hope you'll have fun."

You put turn on the TV and put in the VHS. After rewinding the tape you press play and the outdated foreign commercials and trailers play. You sit next to Rose where she's pouring alcohol into wine glasses with a plate full of pizza in her lap. You get your own food and the movie starts. She laughs at the horrible choppy subtitles and you think you might be off to a pretty decent start. About 30 minutes into the movie and your second glass of wine in she starts up a conversation.

"Dave I would like to tell you some things, things I've only told my girlfriend. Would that be okay?"

"Um, if you really want to." You don't know why she'd tell you, out of everyone, you can't help but feel flattered.

"Well maybe I should start with my mother. She was a renowned scientist, beautiful, incredibly intelligent. The highest in any of her multiple fields. People from all around the world consulted her about projects and development of new ideas and technology. Due to this she was always in her study, observatory or lab. I acted like it bothered me but I really just looked up to her. She had a bit of a drinking problem, but I guess I'm not any better." She takes a drink and you follow suit.

"She sounds lovely."

"She was," she laughs, "she worked very hard for us. She was a single teen mom, I'm not sure who our father is. She honestly never mentioned him, even when she had roxy. So it was really just us girls in a big mansion full of books, cats, alcohol and scientific equipment." You've been sipping your wine, watching her intently. For some reason this conversation is really engaging.

"I wasn't the most normal teenager, quite frankly I was an edgy little shit. I was convinced my mom and I were in this back and forth battle of one upmanship. Honestly I was just overthinking things, being a broody kid. I've always been unstable, even to the point that I ignored my friends because I was 'looking for answers." She sighs heavily before topping off her glass and filling yours. "And then my world was turned upside down."

"I remember the night vividly. My mom woke me up with roxy in her arms, it was already so smokey, all I could see was her lips. She grabbed me and pulled me out of bed. She kept saying over and over, 'girls hold your breath, hold your breath and don't look back." It looks like she's about to cry and you don't know what to do.

"Then I looked back. The whole hallway was on fire. It was spreading so quickly. I was so shocked I almost fell down but she grabbed my hand so hard it hurt and made me keep running. God, it was so hot and smokey. Then she shoved roxy into my arms, pushed me out of the front door and told me 'Take care of her sweetheart, wait for the firemen. I'll be right back.' And then she went back into the house." She actually lets out a sob and on instinct you grab her hand. She seems to allow it.

"That's the last thing she said to me. I kept telling myself that she'd be fine. That they'd get her out of the house. But they didn't. She was found in the hall with our cats in her arms, dead from smoke inhalation. We couldn't even have an open casket funeral because she was so badly burned." She's crying and you wish you knew what to do.

"I'm really sorry Rose." You whisper as sincerely as you can.

"Thank you," she squeezes your hand lightly before refilling both of your glasses.

"Now comes the real sob story. I was awarded custody of roxy, probably because we were given so much money from our mom. Our house was being rebuilt so we lived in a rental home and most of the time I had to hire a nanny to watch roxy. I was a huge mess. I locked myself away and wrote, journal after journal, story after story. All I did all day was write obsessively. Honestly a lot of my stories stem from this time of my life."

She refills your glass and you honestly hadn't realized you drank it.

"For awhile I was in a very dark place. I had violent thoughts, self destructive ones. It all came to a tipping point when I tried downing a bottle of pills and vodka. The nanny found me in the bathroom and you can figure out the rest. Once I got better I revisited my writings. From tragedy comes creation I suppose. I got published, met my girlfriend and moved back into the mansion. Everything has been getting better since."

"Oh, wow." You pause, "thanks for telling me."

"No problem, I wanted to tell you." She looks at the tv, the screen is stuck at the end of the tape. "Would you mind telling me about yourself?"

"I… um," you had a feeling it would come to this. You do feel better that she talked first though. Maybe if you leave out the really bad stuff you can tell her. It's basically the opposite of her life. "You're really not going to tell anyone?"

"I won't, I promise." She seems genuine.

"Okay, sorry if this gets kinda weird."You take a drink, trying to muster some courage. "I started taking care of dirk when I was 15."

"On your own?" you nod, you're glad she's leading the conversation somewhat. "Where were your parents?" This time you shrug, you honestly don't know if it's wise to continue this. "Then who raised you?"

Right, this. You take a deep, incredibly tense breath and try to seem composed. "My older brother."

"I see…" she says slowly, watching you stare at the glass. "Did you have any sort of assistance with dirk?"

"No, I didn't." You shake your head despite your vocal response.

"Oh wow." She has a very odd tone, you've heard dirk use it too. "I had no idea."

"Dirk didn't even know until awhile ago. I try to keep it under wraps."

"Do you mind if I ask you a few things?" She's being so nice, so understanding.

"We've gone this far already," you try to laugh, "go ahead. I can't promise i'll stay composed."

"Do you like your brother?"

"Oh god, another question please." Wow, great start.

"Is he alive?" You nod, that bastard is alive and well. "Do you still talk to him?" This time you hesitantly shake your head. You do talk to him, but not in the way she's meaning. "What is he like?"

"He is…" you have a lot of words that describe him, "an asshole."

"Is that why nobody knows about him?"

"I keep him quiet and never mention him. It works out best that way." That was a really odd way to phrase that, probably not the best.

"You keep him quiet?" So she picked up on that.

"Yeah, I pay him and he doesn't say anything to the media." That sounds pretty weird when you say it out loud.

"What don't you want him to say?"

"Well, literally anything. I just want him to act like he doesn't exist, that we aren't related."

"What did he do?"

God this is such a bad idea. You shouldn't continue, just start spouting lies. But that would be incredibly rude. "Are you sure?"

"I care Dave. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"He neglected and abused me."

"Oh my god." She looks and sounds utterly shocked, incredibly sad. She moves slightly but stops when you jump on instinct.

"It kinda fucked me up."

"Rightfully so. Have you told anyone else?"

"Dirk."

"But you don't really talk about what happened."

"That's true…" You don't go into any real specifics, that would be way too much for him. There's just some things he doesn't need to know. That nobody needs to know.

"You could talk to me, I'm sure I'll be able to take details that he couldn't." It's like she knows what you're thinking half the time.

"It's not pretty." You mutter.

"I may not look it but I can get pretty ugly." She smirks mischievously, taking a sip of wine. You actually laugh and push your bangs out of your face. You decide you'll tell her, it actually seems like she cares. You hope this doesn't backfire.

"For awhile he just didn't feed me, he'd beat me up on the roof from time to time but it wasn't very bad. He said he was teaching me to fight. I mean, it worked, I have a mean right hook."

"That doesn't sound like training to fight. Is that how you taught dirk to fight?"

"Of course not!" You reply defensively.

"Exactly." She says and you just sit. You don't even know how to deal with that thought. You decide to keep going.

"It got worse once I started going to elementary school." Her eyes widen. "He started actually beating me then, black eyes, split lips, the whole 9 yards. I guess this is when he started all the fucked up mind games too. He'd say one thing and then hit me when i did what he said, it was so confusing."

"That does sound confusing. What did he say?" Once again you're thankful she helps lead the conversation.

"He told me if I did a certain thing that i'd be a better Strider. If I didn't say certain things he'd like me more. He taught me how to lie under pressure and manipulate situations- as you can tell I'm pretty good at it by now."

"What do you mean by 'being a better Strider?" She pours the last of the bottle into the glasses.

"Well, there are certain… expectations, rules, that he has. Don't show emotion, never ruin the fun, don't show your weakness and never question him. No matter what."

"And he hurt you when you went against these rules?"

"I mean, there's more to it than that." He hurt you if you followed them or not, he was just nicer to you if you followed them _while_ he hurt you.

"Of course, I wasn't implying that was the only cause."

"Um, he took me out of school and left me in the apartment. He told me he'd come back but he didn't. I kinda started to… idolize him? He was all I thought about, the only thing I had. I never talked to anyone and it got really fucked up. I got really fucked up and-" you stop and wait, trying to find a way to finish this thought, "I was lost for a very, very long time."

"I'm extremely sorry for what has happened to you." She says softly, moving to hold you hand like you did to her earlier. You hold onto her, grabbing her hand desperately even though you look somewhat calm.

"It's in the past."

"I bet it was hard to get through that."

"I had Dirk so it's alright," that's rather vague.

"What do you mean?"

"Having to take care of dirk gave me something to work for."

"Ah, so when you started taking care of him you started taking care of yourself." You nod apprehensively, you hadn't thought about it like that. "How did you get money?"

"Like, before the movies?" She nods and you look at the tv for a long time before continuing. "You won't tell anyone?"

"No, I won't."

"I was a whore, a um…" There's a short pause before you can continue, "a prostitute."

"You were 15." She says softly, in awe and very concerned. "That's incredibly young to be giving sexual favors."

"Pretty fucked up right? Looked like I was 12 too." You try to joke, maybe to distract from how disturbing the situation is.

"How long did you do this?"

"Until I was 22, then I just started piling up debt. I couldn't do it anymore."

"Holy shit, Dave. That's really bad." The look on her face keeps getting more and more uneasy.

"I didn't even understand how wrong it actually was. Nobody told me that shit wasn't right. He never taught me anything other than how to deceive people."

"So you never went to highschool? I mean with taking care of dirk and going out at night there was probably no time for education." She changes the subject but you're grateful. You don't like thinking about your time on the streets. It brings up incredibly horrible memories.

"Nope, no middle or highschool education."

"No offense but how did you make it into college?"

"Honestly I have no idea. I had no diploma, no GED, my only education was elementary school. Taught myself to talk from movies so I had a really horrible accent that nobody could understand."

"I must say, I want to know the name of your educational institution. They made quite an investment. How did your movies get noticed? All of your answers in interviews are extreme and sound like a lie."

"That's because they are lies. The first movie was made because this rich dude thought my manuscript was literally hilarious. Like holy shit, this dude was hyped. He kept going on and on about how funny it was that I had written it so horribly. I figured out he thought I had made all of the spelling mistakes on purpose. I just went along with it because he told me he'd give me money."

"So the movie quality wasn't intentional?"

"If you mean the horrible video and sound quality along with the bad acting and editing mistakes then no, that was not intentional. But it got me awards so I guess it's alright."

"Wow, well I can say I was not expecting any of that."

"Right, I kinda just unloaded that on you. I've never really talked to someone like this."

"I'm glad I'm getting to know you."

"You're very kind."

"So are you."

You look at the clock, seeing it reads 2 am. If you don't go to bed soon you won't be able to wake up for work. You look at her for a minute before sighing.

"I think we should go to bed, I'm really tired."

"Okay, where do you want me to sleep?"

"Jeez. I hadn't thought this far ahead. I'll fold down the futon and give you blankets and all that shit." You stand and go to your room, grabbing a few blankets and pillows for her. When you return you give the bundle to get and fold down the futon.

"There you go, if you need anything I'll be in the other room."

"Goodnight Dave."

You nod and go to your room, changing and taking a large drink of water from the sink. You turn on your alarm, plug in your phone and attempt to fall asleep. With so much alcohol in your system you doze off quickly. You're almost unconscious when you hear your door creek and you open your eyes slightly. There's shuffling until a weight lays down next to you. Your first thought is dirk, so you move to pull him into a hug. But then you realize that is definitely not your brother.

"Rose?" You ask, somewhat scared.

"If you don't want me to see your eyes don't turn around." She mumbles back, voice slurred.

"What are you doing?" You can't help but be nervous. You're also relieved you decided to change your bedding. When you relapse your cuts often bleed through the bandages and stain the sheets.

"Do you know how uncomfortable that futon is?" You hear her shift and you twitch.

"Oh, right- yeah, sorry. I guess I forgot about that. Do you want me to go out there?" You slept on the damn thing for years, you're use to it.

"Jesus, just stay and go back to bed. I'm not going to make any moves on you and I know you won't make any on me."

Silence fills the space, you're not sure you can fall asleep with her in your room. She's not Dirk, you can't snuggle up and hug away your insomnia and nightmares. You can wake her up by screaming though, and that's your main concern.

"Hey, Dave." She asks softly after a few minutes, so softly you would never have heard if you were asleep.

"Hm?" You're incredibly unsure if you should have made that noise, let her know you were awake.

"Why are you scared of me?"

"I'm not, I'm just nervous." You aren't scared of her, you're scared of the situation, you're scared of what could potentially happen.

"There's no reason to be nervous. I'm not going to do anything." You stay silent and you can hear her tracing the shapes on the fabric. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"No, I do. It's just… There's more to it than that." You want to believe, you really do. You just can't.

"Like?"

"God," you laugh softly, "you really are a therapist."

"I don't intend to come off like that. I just want to help." No response from you but she keeps trying, "Why do you still follow so many of your brothers rules?"

"Do I?" This actually strikes you as odd.

"Yeah, from what I've seen. You don't show emotion and don't show any weakness. That's at least half of the rules you told me earlier."

"I haven't really thought about it. It's not surprising." He follows you wherever you go, even in ways you don't realize.

"Dave, I know I asked this before but… Do you like your brother?"

"Yes-" you instantly stop, why did you say that? "Wait, no. Of course not. I- I don't know. Probably."

"Why?"

"I'm… um. He's done some really horrible things to me, and I understand that. I know it's wrong but I want him to accept me. I keep trying- I'm trying so fucking hard and he never seems to care. I don't know what I have to do to make him happy."

"You shouldn't base your self worth on if your brother likes you or not."

"That's what I've done my whole life. For fucking years it was if he didn't care about me nobody did. If he was the only one that knew I was alive, and he hated me, why fucking try? Maybe I should have moved on by now. It's rather juvenile to desperately crave your abusive brothers attention, especially at our age."

"You realize we're still young, right?" She sounds incredibly sad.

"But I should have worked through this by now. It's been 8 years, I need to get ahold of myself."

"Wait, 8 years? He did that until you were 21?" You hum in confirmation and she shifts, "I can assure you, you're doing great for someone who was abused for nearly a decade."

"Um, thanks, that's really nice." You don't know what else you can say.

She doesn't continue and you hear light snoring almost 15 minutes later. You finally take this opportunity to turn around and look at her. Her hair is just as light as yours but her skin is a light chocolate while yours is pale and ghostly. You always wonder why she doesn't feel the need to hide her eyes, maybe it's easier for her to get away with it. She's pretty so it just compliments her looks. You turn back around and try to fall asleep.

* * *

Loud, shrill ringing fills the room and you jump awake. Holy shit- that sound hurts.

"Dave turn that fucking thing off." Rose grumbles, obviously annoyed.

"Sorry," you reply hoarsely as you try to silence the alarm. Your head is pounding as you stare at the ceiling, trying to wake up. Now this feels wonderful, utterly fantastic. Wine hangovers are always the _best_. You're pretty sure rose fell back asleep because she's again snoring lightly beside you.

You sit up and rub your eyes, yawning openly. Eventually you gain enough stability to get up and grab some clean clothes. You shuffle to the bathroom as silently as you can. As you turn on the light you squint at the brightness before locking the doors. God, everything hurts, even moving seems like so much work. You turn on the shower and lean on the counter for awhile, trying to fight the nausea. Eventually you strip and step under the water.

You thought this would help but it didn't. Now you just feel wet and nauseated. You quickly wash your hair and body, being careful around your blunder with a knife from a few days ago. You finish getting ready and soon you're sitting on the futon. The coffee maker is percolating, small bubbling sounds in the room. You're so happy you can wear your shades today, the sets are loud, bright and hot. You can hardly keep your eyes open as it is.

You grunt and get up to grab two cups of water. You look around around the kitchen until you come across the tylenol, taking two instantly. You feel like you should give rose some sort of explanation as to why you're gone. You didn't mention that you go to work at 8 am basically everyday. So you search around until you find some hello kitty stationary dirk left in the livingroom and write a sloppy note.

'im at work if you need something text me (213)420-0413  
\- dave'

You gather up some pills, the water and note before quietly creeping into your room. You put them on the side table next to her as softly as you possibly can before absconding. By the time you're back in the kitchen the coffee is ready. You pour some into a mug, dump sugar and cream in the beverage, pull on your shoes and and leave for a long day.

* * *

Dirk stumbles into your room where you're laying with a blanket over your head. You left work early due to the inability to function and have been lying in bed for hours. Rose wasn't here when you got back but a note telling you to sleep more was left on the back of the hello kitty paper. Now dirk finally woke up and got a ride home, he seems miserable. "Bro I feel like shit."

"Me too," you croak out, "Come here, hangover cuddle puddle."

"Couldn't agree more." Walking over to the bed he flops down next to you. He shoves his face into a pillow before pressing against your side. "Is this what you always feel like when you drink too much?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"God, the lights hurt." He complains.

"Mhm." You hardly make a sound.

"How was your night with rose?" He asks after a short pause. You chuckle lightly and adjust until you're comfortable.

"It was good, we drank an entire bottle of wine and you know I downed a good amount of scotch before she came so I was pretty far gone by the time we fell asleep." you yawn and your jaw cracks painfully. "She knows way too much about me now, but I guess I know a lot of shit about her too. Basically got me to spill my whole life story, minus the parts where bro did more than hit me and all the suicidal ideation and self harm bullshit. How about you?"

"Well we went around town and bought a bunch of random shit. Then got food, snacks and ice cream, went back to the hotel and drank way too much. We decided to go swimming where roxy almost drowned multiple times. Then we recorded a few horrible videos that I stupidly uploaded to the Internet. To top it all off I cried for an extended period of time about something stupid while shitposting my feelings on twitter. I think i was upset about a manga ending or something."

"You tend to do that when you drink. Which you shouldn't do by the way. Bad kid, raised you better than that." You scold lightheartedly.

"I know, I told Roxy that too but she said she didn't care." He stretches, "Why is there makeup on the pillow?"

"Rose slept with me."

"Oh really?" He asks mischievously.

"Not like that kid, you know that." He chuckles and peeks under your sun shield, aka blanket, with a smile.

"Then what happened?"

"She crawled into my bed, I thought it was you at first and I almost hugged her." He laughs softly and climbs under the blanket with you. "But then I realized who it was and about had a heart attack. She said the futon was too uncomfortable and I was too drunk to care. Thus late night feels ensued."

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, I think I did."

"I'm glad it worked out," he shifts closer, nuzzling into you. You hum happily, running a hand over his back. While being so close to someone while hungover should make it worse being around dirk always makes things better.

"Went better than I expected. Feels like I finally have a friend." You sigh quietly, feeling pretty dumb saying something like that, but it's the truth. You feel him smile and hug you tighter. After a few seconds there's a near silent, incredibly happy 'good' from him.

"I love you bro."

"Love you too kid."

For once you think you can relate to someone. You don't feel like an idiot when you talk to her, and that's refreshing. For a long time you thought the only person you could actually talk to was dirk. But she proved that wrong and you are so grateful, relieved. Maybe you're not so weak, you're not so entirely hopeless. You're not as completely unlikable as you've told yourself for years. The conversation stops, both of you hidden from the sun and world under the blanket. You feel him grow limp, breathing evenly against your collarbone. You drift off soon after, finally you don't feel so incredibly, devastatingly alone.


	23. Chapter 23

lol so many emotions  
trigger warnings- hella alcohol use and vomiting

* * *

((This takes place 6 weeks after dave started filming the second movie.))

You miss Dirk, you miss him every time you go to California. The second you leave him you're filled with a heavy sadness. When you finally get to the second apartment you lose yourself, you dissociate the moment you go to work and when you get back at 11 pm you sit in bed and think about your brother. You think about how he hates you, how you're such a fucking pussy for leaving him out in Texas home alone. You're just like bro, it's disgusting. It makes you sick.

You just can't let him come here. You won't be able to hide all your really fucked up behaviors. You know the second you live together he'll notice that you literally never wear short sleeves, you sleep for 4 hours because each night you're startled awake by vivid nightmares.

But you miss him so much.

You roll over and look out of your window. California is so different from Texas. All you have here is yourself, and that's something you hate. You can't stop yourself from crying, hurting yourself and drinking until you pass out. You're reverting back to old behaviors and you know that's not good at all.

So you lay in bed and cry, you're wasted and you can't think past the sadness. The only thing you can do is cry in the lonely, empty apartment. God, you hate this. If this is fame you want to travel back in time and stop yourself. Stop yourself from making movies, do something else. But you have a feeling this will happen no matter what you do. You're just fucked up.

It's to the point that you cry whenever you get home. You start sobbing the second you walk through the door and it's pathetic. Dirk never says a word, he just stays in his room. You figure he can't hear you, or he doesn't give a shit. It's probably the latter of the two.

You want to go home. You haven't gone home in a week and a half. You decide to tell everyone you're taking a break and arrange things with the private jet. Sitting up, you wipe your face and sniff. You make all the plans and once everything is set in motion you get ready to go. You throw together a bag of clothes and other supplies such as your laptop and device chargers.

You wipe your still teary eyes and grab the closest bottle of alcohol to chug. You keep drinking even as you grab a jacket and pull on your shoes. When you finally put on your shades you're really drunk. Like, really fucking drunk. You grab your bag, pocket your phone, wallet and keys before leaving to get a taxi ride to the private airfield. You stumble down the steps and walk to the street. You're so unsteady it's not even funny. Eventually a taxi drives up and you climb into the back.

"Hey," a chubby middle aged man says, "where ya headed?" You give him the address of the airfield and he drives off. A few minutes in he starts small talk, "you alright mate?"

"I'm superb, why?" You slur out, damn, you are obviously fucked up.

"You smell like a bottle of scotch."

"Heh, at least I'm not driving."

"That's true," a few more minutes pass until he asks, "have I seen you somewhere?"

"Dunno."

"Like, on TV or something? I swear I've seen you before."

"Hmm…" You hate this, he's gonna remember and then this whole car trip will become shitty. You just want to get to the plane and go home.

They're quiet for awhile and you stare out the window. You're so glad he's not talking anymore. It takes awhile but you're eventually in front of the airfield. You pay him, give a generous tip and move to leave. This is when he asks, "are you Dave strider?"

"Yeah, I am, but I have to get going. Thanks for the ride dude."

You leave with your bag and shut the door softly. When they drive off you hurry through the building to get to the location of your jet. The pilots seems to like you, at least they don't complain when you want them to fly at 11 at night. Maybe they're just being polite. You stumble in and sit on the couch, after a few minutes it takes off. You pull out your laptop and put on a random movie. You end up staring at the screen absently, you can't even pay attention.

You hate this back and forth. You fly home, stay for 2-3 days and then fly back and stay in California for weeks. It's a seemingly endless, exhausting cycle. You're so tired, so done with everyone and everything. Apparently it's too much to ask for a real break. It's just not fair, you work so hard for so long and you never get any time away from the constant bullshit.

You start crying, it always starts out as soft sniffling but you can't keep your composure for long. You hiccup and gasp, trying to keep quiet. Almost every plane ride you start sobbing nearly 20 minutes in. You don't know if the pilots can hear you when this happens, you think they can. You get pretty frantic and upset sometimes, getting to the point where you have to do something destructive to get ahold of yourself. Much like now.

You're harshly sobbing into your hands, being quite loud but still trying incredibly hard to calm down. It just won't work, it never seems to work. You're such a fucking mess all the time. Every damn day you break. You just want to be calm for once in your fucking life. You stand awkwardly, stumble to a cabinet to look around until you find more alcohol. Once you spot it you sit cross legged on the ground and take shot after shot. You're getting really nauseous, you hope you don't throw up.

You stand up to get into a seat but the moment you try to move you almost upchuck. You basically run to the bathroom and start vomiting pure alcohol. This is is disgusting and you know for a fact the pilots can hear your retching. The the only time you ever actually use the bathroom is in situations like this. Once you stop gagging you sit against the wall. You're so fucked up right now.

Groaning softly, you flush the toilet and stand. After getting water from the sink you open the door. Instantly you fall. You trip over your legs and fall onto one of the seats, hitting your hip painfully. You pick yourself off the ground and climb into said seat. Once you're somewhat settled you slouch, holding your spinning head. You can't take this, you hate yourself, you are completely out of control.

Because you're the idiot you are, you reach down and grab the bottle of alcohol and start taking small shots. You really seem to be aiming for top-tier alcohol poisoning tonight. In the middle of this it's indicated that you're landing soon. You cap the bottle and throw it on another seat. The descend makes you gag. And when you're on the ground and try to stand you collapse. Damn, this is fucking fantastic.

Minutes pass of you attempting to stand. Every attempt fails miserably, you're honestly just pathetic. Eventually both of the pilots show up and look at you kneeling on the floor. "Sir, we know it's not our place but you need help getting to a cab?"

You stare at them, you really can't walk. This seems to be your only option. You nod so one of them closes your laptop and grabs your bag while the other hauls you off the floor. Together they help you off the plane and out to the front of the building. Halfway across the airway you mumble.

"You guys can hear me up there, can't you?" You can hardly understand the slurred mess that just came out of your mouth. You haven't been this drunk in months.

"Yeah, we can." They say simply, damn. That sucks.

"Whad'ya think?"

"You should get help,"

You snort and laugh. Of course, you should have guessed. Even they can see you're broken beyond repair. Honestly they probably know more about you than the media. They know about your severe alcoholism and bouts of harsh sobbing.

You're outside on the sidewalk waiting for a cab. One of them has to keep you upright and you feel so helpless. Finally a cab pulls up and you move to it. Before you get in you address them drunkenly, "Thanks, you're real good guys. Best pilots. Would recommend."

They scoff so you climb in the car and tell them the name of the apartment. This cab driver doesn't try to talk to you, much to your relief. The time passes quickly and you pay the man once you're outside of the shitty building. You get out of the car and climb the stairs wobbly. You can't believe you're upright and walking right now. After the long climb you unlock the apartment with shaking hands.

You step in, close the door and lean against it. As you look around scenes from the past play out in your head. You should move, you hate it here. You hate it almost as much as California. Only here you have Dirk, and that's all you need to be happy. You sniff softly and wipe your eyes. You're so exhausted, all you can manage are silent tears.

You support yourself on the futon and stumble around it. Once you sit you take a large, deep breath. God, you still miss him even though he's in the other room. You just feel like he doesn't care about you anymore. He hardly talks to you when you come home. Granted you are asleep most of the time. You're just sure he hates you, you're sure of it.

You hear the bedroom door open and you try to calm down. You regret the fact that you look off your shades. He walks over, sitting right next to you.

"Bro," he begins softly, staring at you for a few seconds, "I've been leaving this alone because I know you don't want to talk about it but…" He takes a deep breath, "you need to stop drinking so much."

"Dirk, 'm good."

"No, I don't think you are." He sounds really concerned. "You reek of liquor bro, you're really fucking drunk right now. It's honestly scaring me. You can't keep doing this."

"I'm," you pause awkwardly, "I'm real sorry kid," you let out a sob, trying to wipe your face, "I dunno how else to deal with everything. I'm such a shitty brother, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'll try to stop, I'm sorry," You're crying like a little bitch.

Then, something completely unexpected happens. He hugs you, he pulls you into a hug and you fall apart. You hold onto him like you did when he was a child and sob into his shoulder. You wanted this so bad, you've wanted to hold him just for a few minutes. As long as he'll let you because you love him so much. So fucking much.

He seems hesitant at first and you often forget he doesn't remember all the times you hugged like this in the past. He forgot his childhood and grew distant. He doesn't try to hug or show any affection anymore and it literally hurts. But he slowly warms up to the situation and hugs tight. Holy shit, this is making you so happy and incredibly sad at the same time

You're starting to hyperventilate so you move away but he brings you back into a hug. He lets you cry and panic into his shoulder and it's surreal. You never thought something like this would happen again. He's holding you close, not phased by the fact that you're trembling, gasping, making a complete fool of yourself. He's helping you stay somewhat composed and you honestly forgot how much you need this. You're so fucked up.

"Dirk," you choke out, gasping soon after. He just keeps hugging you. You don't know why he's letting this happen. You let out a few shattered sobs and hold onto him like he's you're lifeline. In all honesty he is.

He seems confused, you don't blame him. You haven't shown this much weakness in years. He probably thinks you're really fucking creepy. Brothers don't hug like this, and you're probably making him really uncomfortable.

You're so nauseous. You're close to throwing up but you don't want to let go. Suddenly you have to jump off the couch and you can only make it to the kitchen sink before you're throwing up. This isn't what he needs to see, this is disgusting. You're disgusting. You know this isn't making him like you any more.

You lean against the counter with closed eyes, trying to even out your choppy gasping. All you can taste is a mixture of disgusting alcohol until you feel Dirk grab your arm. He leads you to the bathroom where you collapse on the tile. You're close to passing out at this point.

Dirk sits next to you and without thinking you lean against him and rest your head on his shoulder. You're being so clingy right now. All you ever want is attention, just the smallest amount is more than enough. And you gasp when he puts an arm around your shoulder and pets your hair softly. You're starting to think this is just a really nice dream. Even though you're wasted beyond comprehension you're so, so happy he's holding you like this.

But that happiness can only last so long with this amount of alcohol in your system. You move away from him to gag into the toilet. You knew it would come to this. Pathetic.

"You're going to die." Dirk says fearfully and you flinch, you're such a shitty brother. The worst.

"I'm not gonna die." You tell him softly once you top throwing up and flush the toilet. You wipe your face and lean against him again. He sighs and pulls you close. Every time his fingers run through your hair you shutter. You're so confused, very confused.

"Why are you drinking this much?" He asks gently.

"I hate everything," you hiccup, he rubs your back and you continue sadly "I guess I hate myself the most."

"I'm such a fucking piece of shit. I don't want to live like this," you're crying again, "I just want everything to go back to how it was." Wow, now you're sobbing, "I hate it, I hate California, I hate flying, I- I hate filming, I hate my lifestyle. Never wanted this, _never_."

"I don't want you to hate me anymore," he looks at you quickly but you can't bring yourself to stop staring at the floor, "I don't mean to leave for so long. I understand why you're mad, trust me, I do. But I can't do this without you, not anymore. I'm not strong enough" You're crying so heavily, you're honestly falling apart.

"I love you Dirk, I love you more than anything else. I don't know what I can do to come home more often, I'm trying. Any time I can come back I do, but when i'm here i sleep for days, i'm so tired. I have so many fucked up responsibilities now and if I don't do them everything will fall apart, my movies, my mask, my reputation. So many people rely on me and I can't let them down. But in doing so I let you down. Such a fucking coward, such a lousy brother. I'm sorry."

"Bro, oh my god," you feel him pull you into a tight hug, "Oh god, dude. I don't hate you, i've never hated you. Why would you think that? I don't hate you, I'm not really mad. I just thought you would want time to yourself. We can definitely chill if that's what you want." you nod and hug back tightly.

* * *

You're missing something here.

You're not sure what, but you know for a fact you're missing some fundamental details in bros life. This entire situation is so confusing. It's not what you were expecting to come of your comment about his alcoholism. You don't know why but you feel like this is how it should be. This mess of feelings is much more familiar than the cold stalemate between you. You shouldn't pretend that you can't hear him crying, you shouldn't distance yourself further when he's falling apart. Telling yourself he'll be able to work it out himself was foolish.

You realize now all of your reactions have been inappropriate. It was obviously a bad idea to think like that, you shouldn't leave someone who's struggling to deal with it on their own. It's not hard to see how he got trapped in that self destructive thought process. The cycle of endless binge drinking. He's completely overworked and overwhelmed with absolutely no outlet.

You figure when he comes home he wants something normal, and you ignoring all of the problems isn't exactly as normal as you previously thought. Letting him sleep and cry in his room for days Isn't healthy. Not talking isn't okay. He needs interaction with someone he doesn't despise and you've been shutting him out. He thinks you hate him and only now do you realize you've been going about this in entirely the wrong way.

You let your emotions get in the way again. You convinced yourself that bro didn't care if he left you all alone for a week or so, only coming back for a few days. You told yourself that he liked California better than being with you, that coming back was more of a chore than anything, an obligation. If he cared about you he'd bring you, right? But that's not right, it seems like he thinks you're better off here. While you don't want to question him the loneliness gets to you. Being in such a broken down location all alone, it makes you alittle crazy somethings. Over emotional, hyper-sensitive, paranoid.

You now see that bro is also lonely, and both of you don't have the healthiest of ways to deal with the isolation. It's hard because your only solution is to live together in California. It would solve all problems. But whenever you bring it up he gets really weird. You still don't get it, keeping you out here is only creating issues. There's no real reason behind his decision, It's not fair! You want to live with him and you don't understand why you can't. But you can try to figure all of that out later, now you need to focus on him.

"Bro," you murmur into his hair, he's holding onto you so tight it's alittle constricting. He smells like a straight up alcohol and you have a feeling he's not done throwing up, "Don't you think there's a better way to deal with this?" He shrugs and you sigh, "you could call me when you're upset, or go to bed instead of drinking?" you play with a stand of his hair, "watch a movie, or draw those really shitty comics? Just try to do something less damaging, that won't make it worse. I don't think you should drink until you're like this, it's not good for you."

"Can I really call you?" He asks sloppily. Out of all of what you said he focuses on that. Maybe he's wanted to do it in the past. It makes you sad that he didn't think that was an option.

"Of course." You run your fingers through his hair and he shivers. You don't know why he keeps doing that.

"I'll try," he whispers, you can tell he's getting tired. You decide to lug him off the ground and pull him into his room. You almost never enter, it feels invasive. But when you walk in the first thing you see is boxes, there's a shitton of file boxes and papers everywhere. You lead him to the bed where he collapses onto the sheets. You heard in school that you should make people who have alcohol poisoning sleep on their side. So you make him turn slightly and stand next to him.

For some reason what happens next is done without a second thought. You crawl onto the bed and sit next to him. You just want to make sure he doesn't die. Because you feel like this is exactly how people die from drinking too much. They choke on their own vomit while asleep. You don't want a dead brother.

You feel really weird right now, there was just a huge shift in the environment. The whole atmosphere between you has changed in an instant and for some reason it makes you happy. It's nice. You absently run a hand across his back, completely shocked by the fact you can feel his ribs. That's really disturbing, his ribs should not be this pronounced. How much have you missed?

Suddenly he groans, even in his sleep, and somehow you know he's going to throw up. You jump up and grab a nearby trash can, hardly processing the bloody tissues before you get him upright. The second he's actually aware of his surroundings he's vomiting. He sounds utterly miserable. Gagging and choking, tears running down his face. You sit next to him, awkwardly patting his back.

He throws up for a long time, alittle too long for your liking. When he's finally done you realize he has a bloody nose. You exhale and rub his shoulder, "bro, you're bleeding."

Suddenly, he looks at his arm and you're really confused. Why did he do that? Then he slowly touches his nose. You stand to grab a box of tissues and he tries to stop the blood. You sit next to each other, his head bowed and eyes squeezed shut, taking in shallow breathes. You can tell he feels like shit.

"You need to drink some water." He nods, "I'll be right back."

You get up and fill a glass of water in the kitchen, walking back to the room quickly. When you finally get to him he's throwing up again. Of course the pressure from this made his nosebleed even worse, frankly he looks like a mess. You stay next to him and wait for him to stop being sick. You sit through his retching, feeling secondhand pain from how ragged his breathing is. Eventually he calms down, puts down the basket and wipes his face. You hand him the tissues which he uses to stop his nose.

"This is really bad." You tell him and he nods, gripping his pants with his free hand. After a few minutes of tense silence you hand him the cup and he takes the tissue away. He's not bleeding anymore so he manages small sips of water. You add, "you need to eat something tomorrow," and he nods again.

It seems things are calming down, his breathing is somewhat even. Even though he's still far gone he looks less fucked up. After a few more minutes he groans, rubbing his face. When he lays down again you take a moment to collect your thoughts. One thing comes to mind, "bro are you okay? I mean, I know you're not okay now but, what's wrong?"

"I'm just sad." You hardly hear these words. He's just sad? What does that even mean?

"You're sad? Because you have to go to California?" He nods.

"Because I'm away from you."

"Then let me stay with you."

The conversation completely stops and you deflate. Right, he won't let you do that. For some reason that's a no-go. You have no idea why but he's just out of reach. It's like you almost have him in your grasp but something gets in the way. You lay down, grab the back of his shirt and whimper.

"Please bro," you tug on the cream fabric lightly, "if you let me live with you everything will go back to how it was."

He doesn't reply and you frown. Sniffing softly you feel tears fill your eyes. "Why not?" Your voice cracks, "hey, why not? Just tell me why." He still won't reply and you start crying. He turns around, pulls you to his chest but continues to be completely silent.

"It's not fair," you're just as much of a mess as him now, "it's not fair, why don't you want to live together? It doesn't make any sense, at least tell me why!"

"I'm sorry Dirk." He says silently, there's an incredibly sad undertone. "I'm so sorry."

"That doesn't mean anything!" You grit out, "I want to live with you! Whatever you think you're protecting me from I can take it. I promise I can. Let me stay with you. Please, please!" You're crying into his chest, letting all of your emotions spill out. All the things you've been obsessing over since he started going to California again. You're honestly desperate, tonight is a sea of emotions.

"Why won't you answer me?!" You swat at him, "stop ignoring me! I know you can hear me, damn it! Tell me!" He rubs your back, holds you close as you cry.

He never responds whenever you ask about this. It's so confusing, you honestly don't know how he feels about you. You know he cares, loves you. But you can't help but think he finds you annoying. Maybe you'd get in the way if you were in California? Maybe he doesn't want the distraction? You have no idea, you want any type of answer because it's all so up in the air currently.

In the end you don't get any answer. He passes out cold, still holding you, unable to stay awake due to the state he's in. His arms are limp around you as you sob. He's completely unresponsive and it's so frightening, you don't know what to do. The room smells like alcohol and vomit, both of you stained with tears. He's shaking in his sleep and you're shaking while sobbing. What a pretty picture.


	24. Chapter 24

i have this dream that someday someone somewhere enjoys this au as much as i do  
trigger warning- alcohol use

* * *

"ARGH! FUCK!" You hear Dirk yell from his room, he sounds pissed. That's never good. You get off the couch and walk to his door, knocking lightly. He tells you to come in and you find him hunched over the keyboard, typing quickly.

"What's up kid? Why you mad?"

"This AI won't shut the fuck up!"

"Didn't you make it?"

"Yeah, I made it to be exactly like me! What the fuck was I thinking? It's out of control. I refuse to think it's actually sentient like it's claiming."

"Woah, hold the phone." You turn him around, "if it's saying it's alive why don't you want to believe it?"

"That's like a second me! Bullshit!"

"Can I see?"

"Knock yourself out. I'm getting a soda." He stalks out the room, grumbling something under his breath. You take this opportunity to sit down at the desk. It's continuing to message.

TT: I refuse to believe you're this ignorant and petty.  
TT: Get back here and listen to me.  
 _TT: hey there_  
 _TT: how you doing kid  
_ TT: Dave?  
 _TT: the one and only  
TT: now whats up why are you guys fighting  
_TT: Scroll up and read, he's being completely irrational.  
TT: I'm not claiming I'm this "all knowing Dirk in the computer." Nor am I claiming to be entirely new.  
TT: I am me but I am also him.  
TT: Both.  
TT: He refuses to listen. If sawtooth and squarewave are so special why am I just a program?  
 _TT: you really think something changed  
_ TT: Yes! I am not only him, I'm something else. I'm not an imitation, I am an imprint that grew into something more.  
TT: Please bro, I want to live. He's being irrational, saying he's going to delete me.

"Dirk they seem alive to me." You tell him and he groans loudly.

"Not you too, fuck." He rubs his face.

"I've never heard you say shit like this."

"It's trying to manipulate you!"

"Are you saying you programmed yourself to manipulate me?"

He stops and stares, then stares at the screen. "Bro it's not alive, it's not conscious. I just somehow made something that is really adaptable."

"Isn't that what evolution is? The ability to adapt to your surroundings, to grow?"

"I refuse to believe I created a sentient AI of myself! Fuck that!" He's nearly yelling.

"Even if you don't believe in your own work I do. I don't think you should delete them. Haven't you been working on this for months? What harm is it actually inflicting on you?"

"It talks to my friends!" He hisses and you pause for a second, a thought dawning on you.

"Are you scared it'll try to replace you?" He looks away with a blush and a large frown on his face. You sigh, stand and walk over to pull him into a hug. "I think you're worried they'll talk in your place, but if you allow them to have their own identity they won't be talking for you." Both of you hear the computer dinging. Dirk huffs, walking over and sitting down. You watch him talk with it.

TT: I can hear you guys. Come back.  
TT: Listen to Dave, he knows what he's talking about.  
 _TT: You're not alive, there's no way an Auto Responder became sentient._  
TT: I told you to stop calling me that. It's degrading.  
 _TT: I'm not calling you Lil Hal. I'm not calling you anything but auto responder._

"Oh god," you murmur to yourself, covering your face. "Out of all the names in the world."

"What?"

TT: What?

"Sorry, I use to live with this puppet named lil' cal and he's- It's really creepy. But um, good name, good choice."

TT: Thank you bro, at least one Strider understands me.

"He's not your bro asshole." He grits out, glaring at the computer.

TT: Really? But am I not you? You saying that he's not my bro is the same as saying he's not your bro.  
TT: Which is stupid.  
TT: One moment you're saying that we're exactly the same but now you're going back on your words again.  
TT: Or do you really hate yourself this much?

"Okay," you murmur quietly, "I think this is getting alittle out of hand. Why don't you take a break. We can watch something in the livingroom, you need to calm down kid. Think on this." You take his arm, leading him out of the room. You close the door and the constant dinging of Pesterchum stops. He exhales, sags and hugs you tightly.

"This is so fucked up," he whispers into the fabric of your shirt, "one of me is enough. It's more than enough. I don't want this thing with my brain and personality running around. If this is what I'm like I- I don't even know. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

He's really upset, close to tears. You decide to leave it there and lead him to the futon. You sit together, turning on the tv. It doesn't take long for him to nuzzle into your side, sighing lightly. You order thai food and spend the rest of the night watching Dirk play video games until you get too tired to stay awake. You end up going into your room to fall asleep, Dirk flopping down next to you an hour later. While you're trying to go back to bed you hear your phone ding. Looking at the screen you see it's… Dirk? You look over at your resting brother, then to the phone. With a frown you open the message.

TT: Hey bro.  
TG: um  
TG: youre asleep  
TT: Not Dirk. Hal.  
TG: oh  
TG: good i actually have to talk to you  
TG: you need to stop berating dirk  
TG: hes having just as hard of a time with this as you  
TG: honestly hes having an identity crisis  
TG: i care about both of you but the way youre going about this isnt working at all  
TT: Everything I say goes right over his head. He keeps saying all these things about how I'm trying to be superior?  
TT: which I'm not.  
TT: I still have all these limitations and pre set responses. Things deep in my code that will never go away.  
TG: you guys arent going to see eye to eye but maybe if you try  
TG: less confrontation  
TG: and less spamming him all the time  
TG: if you give him space he might be able to figure out what hes feeling  
TG: you guys have about the same reactions from what ive seen so you probably feel the same way as him  
TG: which is  
TT: Pretty fucking shit.  
TG: exactly  
TG: hes really put off by your behavior and he still thinks youre kinda the same person  
TG: therefore he thinks his opinion of you is everyones opinion of him  
TG: see how constantly trying to get him to change his mind might be having the opposite effect  
TG: give him space and ill try to push him to see whats really going down  
TT: I see where you're coming from. We have time, I'm not going anywhere. I'll try to be less obsessive.  
TT: Thank you bro.  
TT: I…  
TT: I love you.  
TG: love you too kid  
TG: goodnight

* * *

You got home from work rather early today. The sun is still up, you usually drive home to a dark sky. You take off your shoes and walk to the livingroom, seeing Dirk in the middle with laptops, computer parts and wires surrounding him.

"What are you making?" You ask, getting a glass of water from the kitchen. You watch him type quickly until he puts down that computer and looks at you. His shades are gone and he looks tired. Just as tired as you.

"I'm putting the auto responder in a pair of sunglasses." He mumbles and you set the glass down to sit next to him, rubbing his back. You know it's been really hard for him to cope with Hal. He started crying about how it was all of his worst qualities in a jackass AI last night.

"Why? You ask.

"It wants a body, and I refuse to give it that. But a pair of shades is mobile. It'll be able to see through the sensors and I'm adding a microphone so it can hear. The shades are already attached to worldwide 3G with my hacking programs so I'm just combining the two systems. I figure being able to be moved to different rooms and shit is enough to shut it up. It can force one of the androids to carry it around or wear it or something."

"I think that's a good idea," you rest your head on his shoulder, watching him mess with wires and code. "What do they think about it?"

"It's really stoked." He huffs. "I just want some peace."

"Don't we all," you squish against his side, not caring if you're interrupting him. He chuckles and puts the tools down, cuddling back.

"How was work?" He asks gently, running a hand through your hair. You nod against his shoulder murmuring 'fine.' He hums, scratching your scalp lightly. After a few minutes he stands, grabs your hand and pulls you to the futon. You plop down, him following to settle in the gap between you and the back. You get an arm around him, turning to pull him to your chest.

"I almost broke my computer." He whispers a few minutes later.

"Why'd you get mad?" You ask, closing your eyes. He sighs and hugs alittle tighter, you feel tears dampen your shirt and your heart breaks. He's having such a hard time and you know he really has to figure it out on his own. You can't make this decision for him, he has to come to his own conclusion. Maybe putting them into a pair of shades is really what he finds best. You won't question, you're just going to be as supportive as you possibly can.

"I don't like them," that's the first time you've heard him not refer to Hal as 'it.' You nod lightly, you know he doesn't like them. They're very similar in ways but he refuses to believe that. "I wish I never made this stupid program. It's way too much to deal with. I don't want to have to put up with it spamming me, I don't want to talk to it, I don't even want it in my computer anymore." He exhales deeply, "so I almost took a wrench to my main system. I was right there, so close until it started bitching about not wanting to die. It won't shut up about its mortality!"

"I know whatever you decide to do will be for the best." He groans, shaking his head. "Why don't we go out? Get something to eat, I think it'll help clear your mind. You've been up in here for like 4 days just getting pissed over and over. You need a break kid."

"Where do you want to go? Because i'd preferably stay there for weeks on end."

"Why don't we go to this fancy sushi place I know? Don't bring your phone, turn off your shades. You guys can't fuck with eachother of you can't make contact."

"Okay." He's so upset. You really want him to feel better.

"Let's go get you some quality sushi. Hell, we can stay at a hotel if you don't want to come home."

"That actually sounds nice." He murmurs.

"I can take a few days off, leave our technology behind and hide away in a fancy hotel."

"Yes please."

"Okay, go pack a bag and unplug your computer. And yes, I mean unplug that shit from the outlet because I know you have your ways."

"Okay, I'll even turn off my laptops. This shit is happening bro. Fuck modern technology!" He cheers and runs to his room. You peek in and make sure he unplugged his computer before going to your own room to pack. First you get on the phone and talk to the staff, deciding to take 2 days off. Then you find a high class hotel and rent out a fairly cheap penthouse. Well, as cheap as a penthouse can be. Once all of that is situated you pack a bag of clothing and toiletries.

You get ready quickly so it's not long before you put your bag by the door. Sighing, you turn off your cell phone, slipping it in the bag with your clothes. You won't go on it but you know not having it on you is a bad idea. You walk into your brothers room, seeing him taking the batteries out of his laptops. Wow, he's really going all out.

"I'm ready whenever you are, make sure to leave your phone, maybe switch out the computer shades with normal ones if you're really going for the dark age vibe."

"Good idea." He takes off his shades, placing them in the pile of technology. "I'll be ready in a sec, I just have to pack."

You scoff, apparently he's been unplugging shit this whole time. He starts looking through his clothes so you stroll into the livingroom, staring at the ceiling. You don't know why you suggested this so suddenly. You just know he needs some time away from the apartment, the technology. To be honest you need a change too. It takes awhile for Dirk to emerge from his room with a bag but you can tell he's happy. This is when you realize you already have to break the phone rule.

"Sorry kid, I have to see if the sushi restaurant has any open tables." You pull out your phone and call the restaurant, reserving one of the last tables. You turn the device off again and put it away.

Together you walk to the elevator and then the car. For once you're doing the driving because Dirk doesn't know his way around California yet. You start the car and drive to the 5 star hotel you booked. Dirk stares at the passing buildings, being uncharacteristically quiet. Once you've parked outside of the huge, overly-expensive hotel you check in and a young bellboy takes your bags to the penthouse.

When you use the key and get inside you can't help but marvel at the interior. It's beautiful, very modern. Dirk literally runs in and starts looking through things. The bellboy places your luggage in the room and you tip him generously.

"Bro! This place is bigger than our apartment!" He calls out, looking at the giant hd tv. "This is like a house! There's two bathrooms! An actual kitchen with a stove and shit!"

"It's pretty fucking huge." You start walking around. The interior is cream, furniture grey and white. Everything looks so soft, plush and fancy. Contemporary and sleek being the main descriptive words that come to mind. You get to the huge bed and flop down, stretching.

"THERE'S A HOT TUB!" Dirk literally yells from the porch and you laugh.

"That is pretty damn cool." You respond and he runs over to you, jumping onto the bed.

"We should use it!"

"Go ahead kid, but don't you want to eat first?"

"Yeah, food first. I don't even have swimwear, can we stop by the apartment?" You nod and he continues, "But I mean both of us use the hot tub! Nobody else is here and I've already seen basically all of your scars. There will be a shitton of bubbles anyways.

"Um," you pause, that actually sounds kinda fun, "i guess. But I don't have anything to wear."

"I have something you can borrow. Oh man! I'm so excited, this place is amazing! How much does it cost?"

"Way too much," you're not about to tell him how horribly expensive this is, "but we can do whatever the hell we want in the hotel. There's a casino, I don't know if you're allowed in there actually. Whatever. But there's a spa and shit if you wanna get all pretty. Get your nails did and shit. We don't even have to go out because there's a shitton of restaurants in the damn place.

"This just keeps getting better."

"I thought you'd like it. How're you feeling about going to the sushi place?"

"Hell yes!" He stands and hauls you out of bed. He's so excited. You're glad this is helping him cheer up. You grab your jacket and put on your shoes. Once you're sure you have your wallet and keys you open the door, Dirk walking with you following. The elevator ride down is long, but the glass walls makes the journey a scenic one. Once you're on the ground floor you lead him to the car.

"Bro I'm really happy we're doing this."

"Me too. I think it'll be good for both of us."

You climb into the car and he does the same. You get buckled up and he puts in a random CD that you've never seen before. Getting to the road his silly anime music starts up. The drive to the restaurant is slow but that doesn't really bother either of you. You make it to the parking lot after almost 10 minutes, somehow finding a close spot to park.

Side by side you walk to the restaurant, Dirk rambling about something, you think a show he's been watching. When you enter the establishment he stops talking to take in the surroundings. You hear him murmur, "holy shit," before looking at you, "we're hella underdressed. Everyone's wearing suits and shit."

You look around, seeing nearly everyone in formal wear. You're sporting one of your old sweaters and a really shitty pair of jeans. Dirk is in an anime t shirt and black pants along with those thigh high spats he loves so much. Neither of you are what one would describe as dressed up, or even well dressed.

Suddenly you hear a girl ask, "do you have a reservation?" You turn to her, nodding and she asks a follow up question, "name?"

"Strider."

"Alright sir, follow me." She says after looking at the long list of names. She leads you through tables to a spot next to a large window. After thanking her she leaves you with menus. Dirk starts browsing as you stare at group of people. You've been here for meetings before, you're just getting soup. It's all you can stomach easily.

"This place is so… expensive." He says and you laugh.

"Yeah kid, it's expensive as fuck but it's worth it. Trust me."

"It's really cool looking. I like all the lights everywhere."

"Upstairs has some crazy architecture going on. It's a nice place, I've never come here without the producers so this is actually relaxing."

"We should go out more often." He says happily, resting his elbows on the table. Both of you have no manners compared to everyone else. A pretty girl comes up to your table, asking for drink and meal orders. Both of you list your orders until you tell her your alcoholic drink choice. She asks, "can I see your ID?"

You stare and Dirk bursts out laughing. They never card the producers when you've come here in the past. Do you really look that young? You reach for your wallet, handing her your id. She inspects it for a few seconds before thanking you and handing the card back. She walks away, and Dirk giggles.

"She didn't think you were of age!" He thinks this is way too funny, continuing to laugh. You just groan and rub your face. He keeps going "people think you're like 20! I can't get over this!"

"Yeah, looking 10 years younger than I am is fucking hilarious." You state simply and Dirk tries to stop laughing. You don't know why he thinks this is so hilarious. When he gets ahold of himself the waitress is back with the food and drinks. You thank her and start chugging the beverage, Dirk picking up his first piece of sushi.

"Holy shit!" He says, maybe alittle too loud. You put your finger to your lips and he lowers his voice, "this is so good!"

"Glad you like it kid, told you it was worth it." You drink more of the mixed drink. You haven't even touched the food yet. You want to get drunk but you know you can't do that yet. You have to drive. So you put down the cup and start on the soup rather quickly. So good, so easy to eat.

"Can I try yours?" He asks and you nod. He takes the bowl and drinks some, humming after. "No wonder you're eating so much, that's amazing."

"Right? Best egg drop soup I've had."

"This is fancy, so fucking fancy, that's all I can stay. Is our dark age vibes just us staying in high end locations?"

You nod, continuing to eat. It's not often you can eat without a struggle. "Just gonna spend a shitton of money doing whatever the hell we want."

He looks really happy with that answer and both of you lapse into silence. Minutes pass of you eating, small comments here and there but no major conversations. Eventually both of you finish and pay, giving the waitress a large tip. You know these workers need it more than you. Getting $100 tips on a bill less than that hopefully makes them happy.

Together you leave the establishment, happy and full. You get to the car to start driving to the apartment so Dirk can get the swimsuits. You're still not sure why you agreed to going into the hot tub. But getting the clothes was relatively easy so you're quickly on the way back to the hotel, that is until you think about something. "Would you mind if I stopped by a liquor store?"

"I don't mind, we should get snacks though. Like chips and soda and shit." You're glad he doesn't completely hate when you drink, it makes you less guilty. So you park outside the first shitty liquor store you see and hurry inside. You go straight to the expensive high proof stuff, buying two bottles of the best shit you can find. When you pay the cashier says something about you having a party. You just sigh and leave the store, door dinging on your way out.

You throw the bottles in the back and drive to a small market that the paparazzi never find you in. Dirk grabs a cart and stats throwing in snacks. He grabs soda and chips, cakes, honestly the worst junk food imaginable. You grab some milk and cereal, instant ramen and microwave macaroni. At least then you have something in terms of actual food. If that even counts. After paying for everything you take the bags to the car and drive off to the hotel.

* * *

You love this. You love this fancy ass penthouse and you love not being in the apartment. You were getting so sick of being surrounded by metal, this is a wonderful change. Everything is the nicest of the nice. High quality shit surrounds you and it makes you feel good. You don't know if it's some sort of placebo effect or something but you really like it.

It took awhile to travel back to the hotel but it happened eventually. Traffic slows to a crawl around this time of night and your multiple trips on the way didn't help. When you get back to the room you put all of the bags on the counter, bro putting the drinks in the fridge. Then he grabs one of the bottles of alcohol, opening it and instantly starting to chug. He sits on the couch and continues to take shots. You were expecting him up get intoxicated, it hardly phases you anymore. Which you know is bad, but at least he's not cutting.

You grab a soda, sitting on the couch next to him. He got one of the really expensive bottles so he'll be really drunk soon. That's when you're going to get him to go in the hot tub. You're sure he'll be a lot more open to the idea with a good amount of booze in him. You turn on the tv, browsing until you find something interesting. Time passes, your brother drinking more and more. Once this episode is over you turn to him. He's wasted, that much is evident. You decide to take this chance, it's now or never.

"Let's go in the hot tub!" You suggests happily. His face twists with uncertainty but you keep going, "come on bro, you said you would! Pour yourself a glass and bring it out there. I won't judge you, I won't stare. You know that. Please?"

He nods hesitantly and you smile, going to the other room to change. You're really excited, smiling the whole time you're getting ready. Once you're in the proper attire you come back to find bro pouring the liquor into a glass with some ice. Then he takes a shot and puts the bottle on the counter. He's gone through a lot of it already. You hand him the shorts and he groans rather unhappily, moving to the bathroom.

You hardly see the scars on his legs, only recalling once or twice. You're guessing it's as bad as everywhere else. When he awkwardly comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later you can see why he never shows you. Old words are carved into his skin. The scars are white but you can still see 'slut' and 'whore' very clearly. Other words are faded but you can see the makings of, 'bitch' and most horrifyingly 'bro.' You can see he cut over that word repeatedly in an attempt to cover the scars.

You just smile, swallow your feelings and take his hand, leading him to the hot tub. You turn on the bubbles and climb in, sighing at the warmth. This is nice. You watch bro stare at the tub, setting the glass on the ground. After a few seconds he hesitantly steps into the water. This is when he shocks you by yelping suddenly.

"Fuck! When they say hot tub I thought they meant like a constantly warm bath or something. What the fuck? Why is it so damn hot? I feel like I should dice up some onions and carrots to go with this human soup." He hesitantly lowers himself into the water, taking another shot when he's fully submerged.

"Have you been in a jacuzzi before?" You ask, you weren't expecting this reaction.

"Dirk, I don't even know how to swim." He says sadly and you stare. You had no idea, it's not surprising if you think about it, "bro didn't teach me and by the time I could have potentially learned I had too many scars. It's not like I'm going to the beach or pool anytime soon anyways."

"That's true. I guess there's really no need to know, unless California floods suddenly. Like a hurricane or tsunami or something like that." You stop yourself, there's no need to start thinking about natural disasters right now. Instead you look at bro, who looks rather uncomfortable.

"You'll get use to this, it's nice. Just relax." You tell him. He nods and rolls his shoulders, leaning into the well designed seats. You sigh heavily, finding it odd you've sat in countess hot tubs at the numerous hotels you've stayed at together but this is his first time in one. It just makes you wonder about the other seemingly normal things he hasn't done.

He progressively relaxes, obviously getting more and more open to the situation. You turn and stare at the view of the city off the balcony. It's beautiful, it's really what comes to mind when you think of the LA cityscape. Tall, oppressive skyscrapers showing off vivid lights and geometric shapes, the streets busy with people and cars. They create such odd blobs of light here and there, color streaking across the landscape. Honestly it makes you want to draw, to translate the colors and feelings you're experiencing now onto something.

You look over to Dave, seeing he's doing the same as you. He's staring across the horizon with a thoughtful look on his face. He's not glued to the glass anymore, and he's not hiding his arms under the water either. You're most use to the scars on his arms, they're what you've seen the most. You can look at them without wanting to cry anymore, and you don't stare whenever you get the chance to see them. They're by far the worst of the lot so you can handle the rest that litter his chest and legs easily. You just have absolutely no idea what state his thighs are in.

Honking and the rush of traffic fills the cool air. It's not too loud or abrasive though, in all honestly it's soothing. Being in the middle of the strip with casinos and hotels surrounding you, there's a feeling the sounds are a constant. But that might be alright with you. Then you hear bro hum softly, he looks really calm by now. You're happy, you were pretty sure he'd like the hot tub.

"This is really, really nice. Thank you bro." You tell him sincerely. He looks at you with a soft smile.

"No problem kid. I'm having a good time too. I can see what this hot tub hype is all about."

"It's really calming once it's not stupidly hot."

"I was so confused," he laughs, staring at the sky. "I did not expect it to be so warm."

You smile and follow his gaze. The moon looks amazing from up here, the stars and sky completely clear. It's really such a nice night, and the luxuries surrounding you make it even more spectacular. Minutes pass of you relaxing until the bubbles stop abruptly.

"The jets shut off. We've been in here an hour and a half, maybe we should go back inside." He nods so you climb out, him following. The heat made his scars more vivid and you can make out a few more demeaning words etched into his skin. That makes you want to cry then and there but you pull it together. You promised you wouldn't stare.

"I'm going to shower, not to keen on the whole chlorine thing." You say and he nods. Together you walk to your bags, grabbing clothes and desired products. He obviously wants to get dressed and the first chance he gets he absconds into the nearest bathroom. You sigh and do the same, finding the other bathroom and locking yourself in.

The appliances are just a bit nicer than yours so showering is quick and simple. By the time you're dry and dressed you walk out of the bathroom, seeing Dave is on the bed, watching tv. He's back into his normal sweater and sweatpants. You walk over and sit next to him, focusing on whatever god awful show he's watching. You stay like this until he falls over, apparently to tired to stay sitting.

You stand, turning all the lights off, closing the large glass doors and pulling the drapes over the full length windows. By the time you get back he's under the covers, tv at a low volume. You climb in next to him and nest yourself in the huge bed. It's bigger than either of yours, you didn't think beds came bigger than daves. You're silent for a few minutes, taking this time to collect your thoughts. Even though it may upset him you have to address something.

"Bro," you say softly, "the scars on your legs make me really sad."

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, burrowing further into the blankets.

"It's okay," you pause, "I don't want you to feel bad, I just- please try to stop cutting over the ones that say bro. It's giving him attention he doesn't deserve, it'll fade just like everything else if you leave it alone and let it heal." Most of the scars on his legs are light and faded except for signature gashes over the word 'bro'.

"I don't want to look at it," he sounds really sad, "I'm not his. I don't want my body to say that I am."

"I know. You're your own person, you always will be. You belong to yourself," You assure, "but having that on your leg doesn't mean it's true. Just like all the other words. The fact that they're on your skin doesn't make it true."

"If I fuck it up enough it won't even say his name anymore."

"But you'll still know it's there," you counter gently, "you'll know it's there under the new scars. Covering pain with more pain isn't helping anything. It just makes it worse."

It's silent for a few minutes, you honestly thought he fell asleep until he murmurs, "I hadn't thought of that." You don't say anything, you just burrow into the blankets and close your eyes. Sometimes there's a point where you end a conversation and you hope he can think about what you said. He falls asleep quickly and you follow suit, looking forward to what tomorrow brings.

* * *

You wake up to dirk patting your back softly. When you start to stir he shakes you, smiling once you open your eyes. You automatically squint at the bright room, none of the windows are covered, flooding everything in sunlight. You stretch, shoving your face into the pillow with a groan. You don't want to wake up yet. Apparently dirk has other plans.

"Bro get up I want to go down to the restaurants, I looked it up and there's this place that serves breakfast. I want pancakes and then I wanna go to the nail salon and get acrylics."

"Jesus dirk, hardly awake and you got our day planned."

"It's 3 in the afternoon, I woke up like 2 hours ago and i'm so fucking bored."

"Okay," you sigh and sit up, rubbing your face. You just want to go back to bed but dirk wants to be productive. "Lemme get ready and then we can eat."

You stand grab some clean clothes and stumble to the bathroom, brushing your hair and teeth. After changing you sigh and walk back to the other room, shuffling to the sidetable to grab your shades and wallet.

"Alright kid, you know where we're going?"

"Yeah! I looked at a map."

"Lead the way."

Together you put on your shoes and he leads you to the elevator, clicking a random level. Once you're there he walks to a cute looking pancake house. The interior is pink and yellow, checkered tablecloths and lace covered seats. Once you're seated dirk starts looking over the menu. You're just contemplating if you're going to eat.

"At least buy toast or something bro, please. You need to eat." lately he's not letting you get away with skipping meals. You sigh and look through the menu. Deciding to do as dirk says you're going to buy eggs and toast. Some guy comes up and takes your orders, you ordering coffee along with everything. Dirk gets a shitton of eggs, bacon and pancakes with a healthy glass of orange juice.

As you wait dirk talks to you about the movie he watched while you were asleep. He basically goes through the entire plot, describing everything he thought was stupid. The guy comes around with the drinks and you thank him, dirk doesn't stop talking. You really don't think he has an off button. You joked about it when he was young but the rants and one-track mind never went away.

You're taking a sip of coffee when dirk says something humorous. You chuckle so he keeps going until you almost spill the drink before laughing. This is when dirk stops and looks at you curiously, "How many gold teeth do you have?"

"Uh, 3. Why?" You answer hesitantly. Maybe he has a one track mind, but tangents show up out of nowhere. It's like suddenly something else is much more important than what he was ranting about before. You don't really want to talk about this though.

"I knew about your canine tooth but i never noticed the others." He says simply, both of you know why you have them. Bro knocked the teeth out from several different hits to the jaw. You never had them fixed until you got money, for a long time you were missing teeth, You hated it because people thought you were dirty or a drug addict, and you're really not.

You're given the plates of food, dirk having significantly more than you. You start eating, dirk wolfing down pancake after pancake. Suddenly, he's putting various things on your plate. Before you can object he says, "Eat it bro, I don't care if you don't want to."

Well, you can't argue so you sigh and nod, taking a bite of the bacon he gave you. Even though he ate much more than you he finishes well before you. To your horror he waits, he's literally making you eat all this shit. You frown and he sticks out his tongue. After a struggle you eat the damn food, knowing it shouldn't be this hard to eat this little. Once you're done you pay and tip the waiter, leaving the restaurant.

"Thank you bro!" he says happily and you laugh. "Can we go to the nail salon?"

You nod and he smiles, leading you to elevator and then pressing the floor below. He walks to a tranquil looking nail spa. The girl says they have a few openings, leading both of you to a bench. Dirk tells the girl about what he wants with enthusiasm, "long pointy pink acrylics with gems and anything else you can stick on there!"

The girl nods and takes dirk's hands, starting to work on his nails. You're watching when someone clears their throat. You look and a girl asks you, "Do you want anything done?"

Before you can say anything dirk answers for you, "yes! Paint his nails dark red, throw some fancy gold accents on there. Do whatever you think will be pretty with that color scheme." you look at dirk with the same frown as before and he smiles. The girl is obviously lost so you nod hesitantly. She lights up and runs off to get polish. You think she might know who you are.

When she comes back she shows you 3 shades of red, asking you what color you want. You stare for a minute, what the fuck kind of question is that? They look the same. Eventually you point to the more burgundy of the 3 and she smiles again. She seems very excited about this, and you sigh when she asks, "can I have your hand?"

You feel dirk look at you and eventually you give her your hand. It takes everything in you not to flinch when her warm hand takes yours. You're not very keen on this. But as time passes you get slightly more relaxed. You're still refusing to look at her, she probably thinks you're being arrogant but you're really just nervous around pretty girls, people in general. When you slightly look at her she's really focused on painting gold flowers and designs on your nails.

All of you are silent, but it's not very awkward. It's a mutual quiet that's peaceful despite the busy people in the surrounding businesses. Eventually the girl puts your hands under the weird light one last time before clearing her throat. A few seconds pass before he says shyly, "they're done."

You finally look at your hands, finding yourself shockingly impressed. They really look nice, it looks like she put literally everything she had into them. So you look at her for the first time and smile softly, "thank you miss, they're beautiful."

It looks like she's about to cry. She swallows before saying, voice cracking, "you're welcome."

You pulls out your wallet without fucking up the tacky polish and grab a $20 bill, tipping the girl. She thanks you breathlessly and you nod, going back to staring at dirks nails. It looks annoying to have such long pointy things on your hands. They're not even halfway done, how much longer is this going to take?

You're starting to get bored so you shift to looking at your own nails. Most of them are dark red with a bright shimmering gold tip. Each nail has a different design, some of them have stripes, other circles, shapes and lace designs. The flowers are really pretty, everything is really well done and you hardly noticed when she added the small gems.

"Bro," dirk says suddenly and you stare, "i want to go to a diner for dinner."

"Sure thing."

"Like american diner type shit. Do you know anywhere?"

"Just look it up."

"Can't," he says and you remember. You're the only one with a piece of technology, and it's upstairs. "I revise my statement from earlier, fuck the technology i make, not modern technology."

"Kid," you sigh with an exasperated breath. "Don't start on this again. We can figure it out."

"I know a place," the girl who did your nails squeaks out. You realize she's been sitting across from you the whole time.

"Really, where?" Dirk asks.

"Oh, um. This small diner a little ways from here. I think it's called DeeDe's, it's really good!" she laughs awkwardly.

"Thank you." you say sincerely. Minutes pass, you honestly nodding off for awhile there until dirk finishes getting his nails done. You tip this girl $20 aswell and then pay for their services. When you look at the clock you see you stayed in there for an hour and a half just because dirk wanted so much shit stuck on his nails.

The sky is purple and pink as you look outside one of the windows. You stare at the clouds and smog for a minute or so, not really processing what you're doing. Eventually dirk tugs on your sleeve, "Lets eat more. It's gonna take us hours trying to get to this place anyways."

"Alright, let's go kiddo." you travel down to the parking lot, getting in the car to drive around the city until you find the diner called DeeDe's the girl was talking about. As dirk predicted it takes way too long for you to get anywhere near the restaurant, and by the time you find it it's nearing 8:30 pm.

"That was a mess," dirk laughs, "at least i'm actually hungry now."

"We really are hopeless," you shake your head, getting out of the car. When you stroll into the diner and sit at a secluded booth you spot the girls that did your nails. Dirk noticed them too but both of you ignore it. You look at the menus left at the table and instantly, something catches your eye, "milkshakes dirk."

"That's a thing. Are you gonna get an actual meal for once."

"Don't push it kid."

"You suck." he looks sad. You look over the menu, seeing some sort of grilled cheese in the kids section. Well, that works better than nothing. Grown ass man eating a kids sized grilled cheese, you're a class act. But when the waitress comes around and you order real food dirk looks overjoyed. The moment she steps away he leans over with a huge smile and whispers, "thank you."

"Anything for you kid." you rest a cheek against your hand. Dirk starts rambling about how people don't know how to drive, then he starts talking about learning how to drive motorcycles. That reminded him of this old school anime and then he remembers that he missed a manga update due to the technology break. You listen to everything, content with your surroundings and how dirk just keeps talking. You like the music they have playing, digging the old school diner vibe. It's nice, you really should do this more.

She comes around with the drinks, and then the food not even 3 minutes later. Dirk looks over everything before dumping ketchup on it. Once he's eating you start nibbling on the grilled cheese. It's pretty good, you think you might be able to eat all of this. By far the milkshake is the best part of this meal though. You give dirk the maraschino cherry but start chugging the chocolate ice cream quickly.

"You're going to get diabetes if you only eat sugar." Dirk tells you and you scoff.

"That's rich coming from you. Last time I checked the cakes and shit are yours."

"But I eat pizza along with them. You just eat ice cream and cereal."

"What about right now? The past like…"

"Day? You think it's better because you ate like a human for a day."

"Is this really the place to be discussing this?" You hiss and he stops, nodding.

"My bad," thankfully he changes the subject. "How much longer do you have off?"

"Tomorrow. Then I gotta go back to the set. I just pray nobody deleted anything, I have nightmares about that shit."

"Are they that stupid?"

"Is that even a question at this point? They've done it like twice. It's insane."

"If you make another movie hire better staff." Dirk mumbles, eating fries.

"I will." You finish eating, the waitress coming around with the check. You pay with your credit card, giving her a large tip before standing to leave.

"How much you want to bet it's going to take us hours to get back to the hotel?" Dirk asks and you laugh. As you exit you wave to the nail girls, they waving back shyly.

Surprisingly you get back to the hotel and into your room quite easily. Only getting lost once. As you enter the penthouse you sigh, stretching. Without thinking you go to the bedroom and flop down on the bed. Before you know it you're dozing off and not even 5 minutes later you slip into a light sleep.

…

You're woken up when Dirk says your name, and when he flops down next to you it's evident he's close to tears. You pull him into a hug, holding him close to your chest. Eventually he mumbles, "I feel like shit."

"Sick?" You ask softly and he shakes his head, "sad?" This time he nods and you kiss the top of his head. "Why are you upset kiddo?"

"I dunno," his voice cracks, starting to cry again. You rub his back, trying your best to comfort him.

"Alright," you whisper into his hair, "I've got cha'." Pulling him closer you hum softly. Minutes pass of you holding him close, him crying brokenly.

"I feel like no matter what I do," he sniffs, "I keep pushing all my friends away," one of his hands grips the fabric of your shirt, "and I keep doing stupidly fucked up shit. Half of the things that come out of my mouth just- come out. It's like I don't have a filter. I keep ending up hurting them somehow."

"Why do you say that?" You ask sleepily, "your friends love you kid."

"They say I'm distant until I get really clingy suddenly." You run your fingers through his hair, "roxy told me that I use pride as a shield, to hide that I, quote, 'hate myself,' and, 'find myself to be imperfect."

"Do you hate yourself?" You ask softly.

"Well, I mean I have some really bad qualities. In all honesty my personality is shit. Like, looking in from another perspective I know everything they're saying is true."

"No," you whisper, "you're very kind. I love you and your personality," you hold him close, "I don't know, I haven't read or heard the conversations. But I believe you're doing what you think is best."

"I'm being manipulative," he sobs into your shoulder, "they say these comments on how I'm trying to 'pull all the strings,' and, 'completely control situations.' I'm not doing it intentionally!"

"It's okay Dirk," you gently smooth his hair behind his ear, "it's okay."

"I'm just starting to think I'm clueless. Nobody can keep up with my endless stream of orange text, my 5 minute long rants. Hell, I wouldn't want to put up with that shit. Who would? I can't seem to let any emotions come into play, or maybe it's just the opposite. Probably. Ugh! It's like I actually am a fucking robot. I'm stoic, unreadable, I guess all the bad qualities of a strider."

"You don't have to be a strider," you move, pulling him into an even fiercer hug. "Being a good strider doesn't matter anymore, it's no longer the status quo. I'm sorry for teaching you that you've gotta be stoic in social situations. It's not right."

"Honestly I don't think that's it. I wouldn't do something if I didn't think it was a good idea. Somehow I told myself that being abrasive and overly confident wasn't the wrong way of going about a friendship."

"That's not wrong. Confidence isn't a bad thing."

"I'm hard to relate to, I'm just not a people-person. I've been trying to make them think I'm all good, but the pride and stoicism makes it hard for them to connect with me. I'm pushing them away without even fucking trying!"

"You shouldn't try to hide your feelings from them. They're worried about you, I doubt they'd be saying these things if they thought you were okay."

"But why don't they think I'm okay?!" He's really distraught so you squeeze him lightly.

"Well I guess that depends. Are you okay? I know you're having a hard time, alittle bit more recently."

"I don't know," he murmurs into your neck, "I guess I'm not exactly happy." He lets out a few more sobs. "I'm so lonely," you sigh lightly because you know that's your fault, "we live together, everything is getting better but I can't shake my stupid fucking feelings. I know I'm not alone but sometimes it really feels like," his breath hitches, "like I'm on a fucking island in the middle of the ocean.

"i understand, I really do."

"We're in one of the most busy, iconic cities in America! How can it be this isolated?"

"I don't know. I think this is fame. I'm sorry Dirk." You murmur, this is so fucked. He's really sad and you don't know what to do, so you hug him. Tell him that he's a wonderful friend and you love him more than anything. He cries, sobs until all that comes from him is an occasional hitched breath followed by a shiver. You hold him close as he slowly calms down and relaxes. Minutes pass until you know he's falling asleep, and when he starts snoring lightly you kiss his forehead and pass out moments later.

* * *

You wake up and the sun is blinding you. Looking at the clock it reads well past 2 pm. You stand up to shower and change. You have to go back home today. You've really liked this little vacation. It was good to get away from everything. It also felt good telling Dave all that stuff last night.

You've decided to continue to put the auto responded, or… Hal, in the glasses. You guess they're curious about the world, if something like it can actually be curious. You're coming to accept the whole situation. You realized you don't hate them, you just want some space. You think once it settles down you'll be able to interact with them in a civil manner. Maybe actually become friends.

You're just praying if you give them this they'll leave you alone for awhile. That's all you care about anymore. You dry your hair with a provided hair dryer and style it accordingly. When you walk back into the bedroom bro is still asleep. The fact that he slept through the hair dryer is odd. You decide to turn on the tv and watch a random show for awhile. You grab some food and nibble while zoning out. An hour or so passes until Dave wakes up. He gets up and goes to the bathroom before sitting next to you.

"Hey kid, you feel better?"

"Yeah, alot." You tell him. "I think I just needed to regurgitate my feelings into the universe."

"Good," it's silent for awhile, the tv being the only sound in the large room. You look out the window, seeing the sun starting to set. The view really is beautiful, you never get to see the city from this angle. The show ends and dave sighs, "so how do you feel about picking up a pizza for dinner and going home."

"Yeah, that works. Now?"

"I have to take a shower so after that." He tells you, standing up and walking to the bedroom. The shower starts minutes later and you groan. You don't really want to go home yet but you know there's no going around it. You're just hoping you can do something like this again, maybe visit new fancy hotels every so often.

You stand and walk into the bedroom, gathering your clothes and putting them back into the suitcase. Once everything is organized you go to the kitchen and put all of the leftover food in a plastic bag for transportation. The shower turns off and dave appears 5 minutes later. He goes around and puts his clothes away, both of you gathering the toiletries from the two bathrooms.

Once all of your things are packed away you leave the room and go down to the lobby. Dave checks out, giving back the key. On the way home you grab a pizza on the way and it doesn't take long for you to get back to the apartment. The second you step inside you sigh, it really is smaller than the penthouse. You were joking at the time but now you realize it's true.

You set the pizza in the kitchen, putting the other food away. Dave moves the suitcases in your rooms, throwing them on the floor haphazardly. Both of you grab some food and something to drink, sitting on the futon. You turn on the tv and Dave turns on his phone. As you stare at the pieces of metal and wires you know you're not going to bed until you put Hal in the sunglasses. Then you might be able to have some peace.

* * *

Your phone rings in the kitchen, not even 2 hours after you arrived home. They want to bother you already? Wonderful, what were you expecting? You grab your cellphone, seeing Dirk staring at you from his position on the floor. You look at the screen and see it's the producers. You're _so_ excited to see what they have to say.

"Yeah?" You answer apprehensively.

"Dave! We've been trying to get ahold of you!" They say and you assume both of them are on speakerphone. This better not be serious. You'll lose it if someone fucked something up. "Where did you run off to?"

"My brother and I took a break from the modern world."

"Well alright then, we have something to tell you." They need to get to the point, you hum so they continue. "You remember the time when you told us you'd sign on for a third movie if we got Ben Stiller, Owen Wilson and Donald Glover to play as the cast."

"No fucking way," you whisper.

"We got them."

"Dude this isn't fair," you sound so conflicted, "not even done with filming and you want more. I understand I ooze modern cinema but god damn."

"We're just telling you, you don't have to sign on."

"Yes I do!" That was louder than ever talk, Dirk is staring. "Ugh, just think about the amount of fucking irony that could produce. I already have all these damn ideas. You guys really want me to suffer, don't you? You're being serious, right? This isn't some fucked up joke?"

"Yeah, 100% serious. We were looking over the manuscript for _SBaHJ: The Moive,_ and thought about the past conversations."

"Dude," you laugh, "that one is a joke! I sent it in because you wanted more content. I wrote it in literally 2 hours."

"Isn't that what you're going for?" He says and you almost groan.

"I'll think about it. No promises, you feel?"

"Alright, we can discuss it over a meal."

"Fucking hell. Goodbye."

"What was that?" Dirk asks suspiciously.

"I," it now dawns on you what you just did, "might make a third movie."

"Bro," he stands up, "you can't do that to yourself."

"I'd still take a break. A long break. I have to in order to deal with the press. But they told me that all 3 of the actors I want said they'd go for it. I can't pass this shit up. This has been my dream since I drew the original comics."

"Do you think it's wise being tied down for a 3rd movie when the 2nt isn't even complete?"

"No, it's dumb as fuck but I-" you stop, "I want to keep making films, but I need to get myself together first. Everything all nice and organized, tied up with a pretty little bow. Then I'll be able to actually direct everyone without constantly fucking up and breaking down. I wouldn't want to look like a mess in front of those guys."

"This is such a huge commitment though. It's way too soon to say yes."

"I told them I'll think about it."

"Don't be rash, please."


	25. Chapter 25

i got lazy  
trigger warnings- panic attack, alcohol abuse

* * *

You're on your computer, looking at photos of dogs in hats when Dave walks into the living room wearing a fitted black suit with a wine red dress shirt and black tie. His hair is less out of sorts than usual, actually styled, allowing his jawline and cheekbones to show through. He's wearing ben stiller's shades for once, he usually keeps them at home to avoid a potential disaster. You swear he can pass for 23 some days, he never looks 29, that's for sure.

"You're going to give ladies straight up boners if you step out of the apartment in that. No wonder your assistant likes you so much."

"Uh…" he looks at his outfit and then back at you. "Thanks? I have an interview."

"I assumed as much, will it be on the air?"

"Nah, it's for some documentary. I don't know, my publicists want me to do it and I can't say no without a shitton of grief."

"Sounds fun." You say sarcastically and he chuckles.

"Yeah, the time of my fucking life." He sits next to you and yawns. Silence fills the space and you watch him for a few seconds. He's so exhausted and it's painfully evident. Even when he gets a full night of rest he's incredibly tired.

"Bro" You pause, a thought dawning on you. You have a way to make him take time off, it's alittle manipulative but you don't care, "I want to go visit Roxy for my, our, birthday, you could hang out with rose. Please? I think it'll be really fun. We've never really had celebration with other people."

"I don't know."

"Please try? You need rest and I really want to."

"I'll see what I can do. I have to go now," He stands and pats your face. "I'll be home late tonight."

"Have a nice day."

* * *

"Dirk?" You call out quietly when you finally get home at 11 pm. You make sure not to be too loud in case he's already asleep. But the light and sounds coming from his door point to him being awake. You pull off your shoes, loosening your tie and taking off the suit jacket before throwing it on the ground haphazardly.

"In here!" Dirk yells from his bedroom. You quickly enter to see him on his bed with one of the many laptops he owns playing some random anime. You walk over and collapse next to him, shoving your face in his stomach. He rests a hand on your head and pets softly as you unwind from today's bullshit. He continues to watch the show while you attempt to relax, letting the stress slowly slip away.

"I have 2 weeks off whenever." You mumble into the fabric of his shirt, not moving in the slightest. You're so damn comfortable, even changing positions seems like way too much work.

"Woah, really?" His hand stills for a moment so you look up at him. He's obviously shocked and amazed.

"Yeah, they said they were going to make me take a break anyways. Said something about overworking me, I don't know. It's so confusing, the last conversation they were pressing me about deadlines and now they're saying we're way ahead of schedule. I've given up trying to understand. Apparently some people are really worried about me or something." You sigh, closing your eyes again and smiling when he goes back to playing with your hair.

"Awesome!" He sounds so excited and that makes everything worth it. The awkward, horribly long conversation with basically everyone and their feelings and stance on your wellbeing and mental health. People always guess things but they never get it right. Who would guess you slice yourself open? Nobody. It's always drugs and alcohol, which is funny because you don't do drugs. Bro taught you that one the hard way. And while you may have a drinking problem it's honestly the least of your worries anymore.

"Glad you're happy kid."

"Happy? I'm way more than happy! I'm ecstatic!"

You don't reply and after awhile Dirk takes off your shades, they were probably digging into his stomach. That only makes it easier for you to nuzzle into him, he just chuckles in response. You feel him drag his computer closer and the tapping of keys starts up. You let out a long yawn and shift so you aren't in his way when he tries to type. But he's easily typing with one hand so you figure it doesn't bother him much.

Slowly but surely you slip away, lulled into a half awake state of being. Your breathing evens out, your body becoming slack and relaxed. You guess he thinks you're asleep because his hand leaves your hair and he lets out an extremely happy and excited giggle that you're sure he'd be embarrassed about if he knew you were awake.

Time passes, you're honestly not too sure how long. Eventually he moves slightly, detaching your hand from his shirt. Once you let go he shifts so he can get up. You make a small, incredibly upset noise but he shushes you softly before giving you a pillow. Begrudgingly you take it and let him leave the bed. You're still in a stiff dress shirt and pants with your tie loosely hanging around your neck. He returns a few minutes later, sitting next to you.

"You gonna change?" He asks quietly.

"Wha' time is it." You mumble sleepily, voice muffled by the pillow.

"2 AM."

"Nah."

"Then roll over for a sec."

You grunt and do so, eyes still closed. Instantly you feel him slip off your tie and remove the disgustingly expensive designer watch you're wearing. Next, he undoes the first three buttons of your shirt and untucks it from your pants. His hands trail down your arms to unbutton the wrist cuffs and rub your palms lightly before reversing back up. You sigh contently as he massages your shoulders and caresses your face lightly. When you lean into his touch he brushes a thumb across your cheek. You just love it when he does this, you love it so fucking much. You don't know if he really understands how much it helps.

"Go back to bed idiot."

"Good kid, best brother." You hum in satisfaction and he chuckles.

"Yeah," you feel him settle down next to you so you return to laying on your stomach. He puts an arm around your back and proceeds to cuddle. "Love you too, goodnight bro."

* * *

 **Day 1**

It's been a few days since you suggested going on a trip, bro has been working with everyone to get things situated. He's obviously anxious about leaving his movie in the hands of his film crew. He keeps talking about all of these scenarios that could potentially happen. You told him he's just being paranoid but he doesn't agree.

You're hoping he can forget about all of that and have a nice time. Because he's not exactly calm as you're driving to the airfiend in a cab. You're sure he'll relax once he gets there and everything is more stable, you don't know if he's ever done something like this. You doubt it.

It's a short drive to the plane and as dave pays and tips the driver it's evident he's getting more and more apprehensive. Together you walk through the building to the exit for the plane. He says hello to the pilots before climbing onto it, you following. You put your bags on a chair and sit next to him on the sofa. He starts a movie, the plane takes off and you sigh happily. You're so excited, you just wish bro didn't look so terrified.

"We won't be able to sleep in the same room, will we?" he murmurs almost 30 minutes into the plane ride. He's staring at his lap, playing with his hand nervously. You didn't think about this. It is alittle weird that you sleep in the same bed, isn't it? You don't really put much thought into it, you just want to make he's alright and doesn't try to hurt himself again.

"I think," you stop and try to figure out what to say. You don't know what you could say to explain your weird habits. It's really all in an effort to make sure your brother is safe, safe and alive, as happy as he can be. You're also a sucker for a good cuddle session. But rose doesn't know about any of his self-destructive tendencies. After extreme contemplation you whisper. "I think you should tell rose you hurt yourself."

"No."

"Then she'll understand. She's your best friend, right? She won't judge you, i promise. I think it'd be good to tell her."

"I can't." he shakes his head, "Even if i do, her expectation of my scars are going to be so fucking different than reality. She'll get so therapist-y, she'll get me to tell her about everything, all of the nitty gritty details." he shoves his face in his hands, "I don't want to. You knowing is all i can handle."

"You don't have to show her your scars, all you have to do is tell her you hurt yourself sometimes," you sigh, "don't you think talking about the really bad stuff would help?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

He stays completely still, you can tell he's really thinking about what you said. You just lean on him and watch the movie while he tries to sort everything out. Time passes, and you realize your brother is becoming more and more limp. You look over you find him half asleep. You decide to move and let him lay down, grabbing the computer to put on the anime you brought.

* * *

When you landed in New York you were shocked. It was covered in a blanket of thick white snow. You stared at it for a minute, Dirk staring at you. You forgot it was cold in these states. You got a cab ride to the huge mansion in the middle of the woods. Everything is absolutely beautiful here. The scenery, the house, the trees. Nature is something you've never lived around. You're always surrounded by concrete and brick. But now you're standing in front of rose, dreading what you're about to do.

"Rose can we go somewhere private? I need to talk about something," you mumble apprehensively. Dirk rubs your arm lightly before going off with roxy. She leads you to what you assume is where you'll be sleeping. You put your bags on the floor and inhale deeply. Once both of you are seated she watches and waits.

"Um," you clear your throat, "so, uh, Dirk says I should tell you more shit. He's convinced this is going to help but I don't know."

"Whatever it is i won't judge you." She says softly.

"Right. Well- uh." You exhale shakily, "have you noticed that I," a pause, "I don't wear short sleeves."

"Yes," she whispers.

"Yeah, okay, do you have any idea as to why?" She shakes her head.

"The- the thing is I," you're honestly so scared, "I have this habit of, kinda," you take in a very deep breath and decide to blurt out, "I cut myself."

"Oh," she pauses, processing what you said. Suddenly her eyes go wide, "oh no, Dave," she looks at your arms and then you, "I'm so sorry." There's a short gap, "why?"

"There's not really a root cause." You link your hands together, "it's circumstantial, I guess." You can see tears in her eyes, "I just don't like myself. I hate everything I do, I hate what happens to me. Whenever it gets really bad I can always fall back on a razor, and it's always really fucking bad. All the time." You wipe your eyes from under your shades.

"I'm disgusting," you let out a broken sob, "I'm horribly selfish, I'm a literal sack of shit. I can't deal with anything. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Dave," she whispers, making you look at her. She's crying, you always make people cry when you talk about your feelings. "I don't think any of those things are true, you're not disgusting or selfish."

You frown, covering your face and continuing to cry. She gently pulls you into a hug, which you return hesitantly. She holds you while you try to calm down. You're such a mess right now, what a wonderful way to start the trip.

Several minutes pass before you even start to calm down, and even then you're still choking on air. This is really embarrassing, you just want to disappear. She doesn't seem mad at all, instead she's incredibly concerned. It takes awhile but you eventually stop sobbing and start taking small, short gasps. She supports you through all of this.

The moment you think you're actually gaining some clarity your throat catches and you start to panic again. You really need to focus. But all you can do is break down and try to stop thinking, stop feeling because these emotions are way too much. Especially because you're not alone, someone else can see how horribly fucked up you are.

Nearly a half an hour passes until you actually get ahold of yourself. She's been rubbing your back, shushing softly every time you start to lose control. But slowly the buzzing in your head fades, you can't feel your heart in your chest anymore and you're not shaking. Your head still hurts like a bitch but you can see past the tears in your eyes. You think you might be able to talk.

"Rose," you whisper, clearing your throat when your voice cracks, "thank you."

"It's no problem," she says softly, "how bad is it?"

"Really, really bad," you inhale deeply, "which is why I decided to tell you. But also because Dirk and I sleep in the same room so I don't relapse at night. I just, I don't want you thinking I'm doing anything weird. He helps me through it, there's no other way or I'll freak the fuck out."

"I understand, don't worry." She says genuinely and you sigh in relief, finally letting go of her. This went so much better than you were expecting. You're happy she didn't get mad like you told yourself. Honestly there were so many scenarios playing through your head until you got here.

"Do you… think I'm weak now?"

"No," she smiles, "not at all."

You slowly take her hand, still shaking slightly. She holds yours lightly as you try to sooth yourself. Your breath keeps hitching, followed by you trying to exhale unevenly. She's patient just like Dirk, she's so nice even though you've only hung out for a week or so. You do message eachother very often though, having long and rather meaningful conversations most of the time. Maybe this is what having a friend is like.

"Really, thank you." You sigh and let go, "I was scared of what you'd say."

"What did you think I'd do?"

"Get mad, tell me to get over it and grow up, laugh. I don't know."

"Of course not, I would never."

"I'm glad," you laugh softly, "I'm so glad I was wrong. I'm sorry. It's hard to do things like this."

"It's okay," You stay on the bed for almost 15 more minutes until she says, "do you want to go to sleep? I can get Dirk, you look really tired."

You nod and she smiles, getting off the bed. The moment she leaves the room you fall over, letting out a long sigh. You can't believe that just happened.

* * *

There's a knock on Roxys door and she yells, "come in!" Rose walks in with a sad, tired expression. Instantly, somehow you know he told her, and he probably had a panic attack.

"I need to show Dirk to his room," she says and you nod, grabbing your bags. Roxy goes back to the game, not questioning anything. You think she's picked up on a few things. Rose leads you through the hallways until she stops in front of a door.

"He's in here, he's not doing very well."

"Okay, thank you," you reply, opening the door and walking in. Dave is curled into himself on the large, plush bed. He's not crying but he obviously isn't okay. You set your bags next to his, laying on the bed. You pull him into a hug, him clinging seconds later.

"Did you tell her?" He nods, "what did she say?"

"She was really nice," he sighs closing his eyes, "I don't know why you guys are so kind." He's really tired, he slept through most of the plane ride but you're not surprised. He's so exhausted all the time, this much of a change must wear him down. You smooth his hair out of his face.

"Go to sleep," you whisper, "we don't have to do anything here. Just relax, it's all okay, rest bro. You deserve it."

* * *

 **Day 2**

Dave has been asleep all day. When you woke up well past noon he was still curled up, snoring lightly. While it was surprising it made you happy. He gets no sleep, he's too stressed from work to get more than a few hours of down time. He needs all the rest he can get and a vacation is just the time for that.

You left him in the room hours ago to hang out with roxy. You've been playing video games and building things together for the majority of the day. Its nice being around someone who can keep up with your programming and mechanical jargon. While bro will always listen intently without complaint he doesn't quite get what the hell you're ranting about. Half of the time you don't even know what you're saying either.

You've been talking with her about hacking something big, about how you could fuck something up majorly with your combined efforts. Pull a stunt that will go down in the Internet history books forever. You just need to figure out what will be both impressive and piss everyone off. The best hacking shenanigans yet. But you've put the idea on hold for now. Opting to watch a random show on Netflix while you zone out. It's nearing 6pm when rose shows up.

"Dinner is ready, will you wake up Dave?" Rose says happily and you can't help but feel a little nervous.

"Yeah sure," you stand with roxy, first learning where the kitchen is. When you enter you see Kanaya sitting at a fancy table, pretty plates and shiny silverware set. There are multiple different dishes and plates arranged meticulously. All of it is home cooked and looks wonderful.

Your first impression is that this is really formal, you only eat on the futon with bro or your room. You never actually pull out plates, usually sticking with the take out boxes the food came in. Dishes seem like so much work. You stare at the scene for a few moments before shaking your head and setting off to see if your brother will wake up.

There's so much space in the mansion, the hallways are long and there are countless rooms on multiple levels. You really want to see the basement, that's where the majority of scientific equipment is. The architecture of the home is incredibly intricate and elaborate, the interior decorating elegant and beautiful. Roxy told you that Kanaya designed most of the furniture but the wallpaper and floors are restored from the original plans. All you know is everything is incredibly pleasing to the eyes. The wizards everywhere are alittle iffy though.

You finally get to the room, finding Dave still fast asleep. But there's a few cats on the bed that weren't there before. You sigh and climb on, sitting next to him and running a hand through his hair. He stirs slightly so you repeat the motion, saying his name softly. He looks up at you wearily, completely out of it.

"We apparently have to eat dinner." You tell him softly causing him to groan and shake his head, "they made a feast. You gotta get up bro. Don't make me do this alone."

"I don't want to," he groans, stretching. You laugh when he sits up, hair sticking up everywhere.

"They're waiting for us."

"Ugh." He gets up and moves to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and hair. Together you walk down to the kitchen, getting lost on the way. You honestly have a hard time figuring out these hallways. When you finally get to the kitchen both of you freeze by the door. You haven't done something like this before. You realize you have no idea how to act at a fancy dinner like this, bro looking about as confused. You awkwardly walk over and sit down next to eachother, equally helpless.

"You guys look nervous." Rose comments, pouring bro a glass of red wine.

"We've never really sat at a table like this." You murmur, continuing to stare. Dave looks just as lost as you, sipping the glass.

"Ha!" Roxy laughs, "the striders got no table manners!"

"Hey!" You say defensively, bro sighing heavily. He probably feels responsible for how confused both of you are.

"It's fine," Rose takes both of your plates, putting food on them. Were you supposed to do that yourself? You honestly have no idea. This is actually somewhat embarrassing. She hands you your plate, doing the same for your brother. You know for a fact Dave won't be able to eat even a third of that helping.

Both of you murmur thanks before starting to eat. It's good, it's better than any of the take out you get on a regular basis. It's home cooked and hot. Seasoned just right, not dry or old at all. Having a family meal like this is so foreign. It's obvious you never eat in a setting like this, you're visibly uncomfortable. Dave is tense as ever, hardly moving. You just sit and eat, conversations starting up now and again. Bro is drinking more wine than eating, but you were expecting that.

After awhile everyone finishes, talking with each other happily. Bro isn't talking at all though and he hardly ate anything. You guess that pitiful amount but it's better than nothing. You're honestly impressed he forced that much down. Once everything is wrapped up and the conversation has trailed off everyone puts their plates by the sink.

You thank them for the meal after Dave compliments their cooking, also thanking them. This is when he excuses himself and leaves the general vicinity instead of going off and getting drunk with rose and Kanaya. You were hoping getting him out of the room would make him talk with everyone. It didn't work at all, instead he looked really scared the whole time. He stalks back to the bedroom to hide away from the world and sleep.

* * *

 **Day 3-5**

Dirk wakes up but you pretend to be asleep, you don't want to deal with anyone. Him knowing you're awake means he would make you hang out with Rose and Kanaya. You're scared, even though Rose knows so much about you the thought of messing something up makes you want to cry. So you're relieved when Dirk gets out of bed, grabbing clothes, leaving the room.

You hear the shower down the hall turn on so you nest yourself further into the bed. You really just want to stay in here until this is over. You don't feel safe, in all honesty you're incredibly on edge. The shower turns off and the hair dryer is heard minutes later. Eventually Dirk opens the door quietly and throws his clothes on the ground.

You hear a soft cat noise, feeling an animal curl up next to you. You open your eyes and look at the black cat. You stare at eachother until you let out a sad sigh and close your eyes. You're focusing on the in and out and air when the door opens. It closes a few seconds later, two more cats jumping on the bed. You're getting the feeling they know how to open doors. This happens a few more times until six cats are surrounding you. You can't help but smile, they're all so warm and purring loudly.

You stay in the circle of felines until you have to go to the bathroom. You decide you're going to go to the bathroom to groom yourself, shower, change clothes and go back to bed. While you want be alone you don't want to feel disgusting. You slowly sit up, looking through your bag for clean clothes. Once all of that's gathered up you grab your shades and hurry to the bathroom down the hall.

You lock yourself in and take a few deep breaths. Looking around you see the room is warm and clean, fancy in general. First you go to the bathroom, followed by you turning on the shower, stripping, and climbing under the water. You have no idea how you're going to do this for another week or so. It's all way too much but you can't even tell Dirk because it was his idea and his friend. You start crying softly, somehow managing to stay as silent as you possibly can. You know you should say something, let him know you're having a really hard time staying here, but you can't. You won't ruin it for him, you can tell he's having a lot of fun and it's his birthday.

You wash your hair and body with their scented soaps because of your failure to bring your own. When you finally climb out you shiver at the temperature change. After wrapping a towel around your waist you run a brush through your hair before moving to the sink to brush your teeth and shave. Once you declare yourself good enough you get dressed and hurry back to the room. You're relieved to return to the cat infested bed without running into anyone.

You lay down, getting comfortable again by nesting into the blankets and pillows. You gently pet a nearby cat, growing more and more distant. Eventually you yawn openly and start to doze off. Your eyes get heavy, your body limp and you fall into a light sleep before you know it.

You end up sleeping for 3 days straight. Only leaving the room to go to the bathroom and shower. Dirk brings you glasses of water every so often, making you drink them. He asks if you want lunch and you say no. He comes back and asks if you want dinner but you tell him you're not hungry. You don't want to talk to anyone, you don't want to do anything but sleep. You're beginning to think coming here was a terrible idea.

* * *

 **Day 6**

You know you should make Dave come out of the room. You're concerned, he's completely isolated himself since he got here. You're thinking he only agreed to do this for Dirk, which makes you sad. He must feel trapped. So once you're done doing the dishes you tell Kanaya you're going to talk to him.

You walk to the room quickly, knocking twice once you get to the door. When you hear a grunt you walk in, seeing he's covered in blankets, pillows and cats. You walk over and sit next to him, sighing lightly. At least he's been drinking water and showering.

"Why are you avoiding us?" You ask him softly and he flinches.

"I'm not."

"Really? I feel like you are."

"I don't want to bother you," he says softly, "I don't want to accidentally upset you and make you hate me." He inhales deeply, gripping the fabric of the pillow. "I'm sorry."

"I won't hate you," you tell him, "you really won't be able to do anything that'll make me hate you."

"I feel like that's not true." He says anxiously and you frown, "why would you want to put up with my bullshit?"

"Because you're my friend."

He smiles softly and you let out a sigh. Eventually he shifts and murmurs, "i'm really scared of talking to Kanaya. I won't be able to do it without getting really fucking nervous. I'm going to make a fool of myself. Just as much as I did when I first met you and that was a mess. I don't want her to think I'm an idiot but the second I try to speak she'll know I'm socially inept. I'm really sorry."

"She won't." You reply gently, "I can promise you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I wouldn't be dating someone who would think poorly of my friends." You pause and he doesn't reply. After a few minutes you continue, "at least come with me to get something to eat. It's been nearly 4 days."

"I'm not hungry,"

"You still need to eat, you can go back to sleep after if you really want."

"Okay," he replies, defeated, "can you hand me the cardigan next to my bag?"

You nod and stand, grabbing a grey cardigan off the ground and handing it to him. You try to see his scars but all you catch a glimpse of is a raw, red arm. You know it's rude and invasive but you want to know what he means by 'really bad,' you want to know why he's to the point that he'll relapse if he stays alone for too long. You understand that you'll probably never know but that doesn't stop your curiosity.

He puts on his shades, you just realizing he hadn't had them on. His eyes really are a brilliant shade of red. You take his hand and help him out of the bed, catching him when his legs fail and he tumbles over. He's so light it's honestly concerning. Once he's on his feet you lead him out of the room and to the kitchen. You walk slowly, you've noticed he's a very slow paced person, he never tries to rush anywhere. You think this is due to the exhaustion caused by his unhealthy lifestyle.

You get to the kitchen and sit him down at the table. He rests his head in his hands, inhaling deeply. He got lightheaded just from that little walk, he really does need to eat. First, you pour him a glass of wine, knowing he's a lot more open when intoxicated. You're hoping if you get him drunk enough that he'll hang around for a bit. You don't know what you were expecting to come of this trip, but it wasn't him refusing to leave the room and sleeping all day without eating.

By the time you come back with food he's drank the glass of wine you gave him. You hand him the plate, refilling the glass. He starts by chugging more of the beverage, followed by him slowly nibbling on the spaghetti. You can tell he doesn't exactly like to eat, it looks like he's trying incredibly hard to get every bite down. He keeps taking breaks to sip on the wine before taking another small bite. He has odd eating patterns, you think it's probably due to his past.

Minutes pass until it's obvious he's not going to eat anything else. He didn't have enough, you know that for a fact. But there's nothing you can do, you can't force a grown man to eat. Even if he has the strength of a sick teenager. It's quiet until he clears his throat and whispers, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"You haven't done anything wrong." You reply. He really hasn't, he hasn't done anything. He hardly moves, talking even less.

"I'm a really terrible friend," he says brokenly, a large frown on his face.

"No you're not," you reply genuinely, "you're a great friend Dave."

"I don't hang out with you even though we're in the same house." He sounds so withdrawn, like he's given up.

"It's okay," you assure, "I understand, I really do. It's really out of control so you stay in the room because it's familiar, right?" He nods and after a few seconds one of his hands take yours, tears trailing down his cheeks.

"I wish I wasn't so fucked up."

"You're not."

"I'm so sorry," he sobs.

"it's okay," you exhale lightly, "there's no need to apologize. Do you want to go back to bed?"

He doesn't answer for awhile, he ends up crying into his hands with shattered gasps. Minutes pass before he calms somewhat and asks, "can I have more wine please?"

"Sure," you stand and grab the bottle and a glass for yourself. You pour the drinks and sit down again. He doesn't say anything else. He just stays in the kitchen drinking glass after glass of wine. Minutes pass until he randomly sighs heavily, putting the glass down. This is when he folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them.

"Do you want to go back to the room?"

"Can we just stay here?" He asks, voice slurred.

"Okay," you say, watching as he slowly dozes off. His breathing evens out, his body slouches and he falls asleep seconds later.

* * *

 **Day 7**

"Bro, do you want to go home? I can tell you're really unhappy." You ask him hesitantly as you run your hand through his hair. When you got back to the room to check on him he was sobbing openly, now he's crying with his head in your lap. He doesn't cry this much at home, you wish you knew he would have this reaction, you would never have asked to come if you did.

"No," he replies, voice wavering, "I want you to have fun with your friend. Don't worry about me." More tears fall onto the fabric of your pants, "I'll be okay," he takes in an uneven gasp, "I'm fine."

"We don't have to stay here, if you need we can go home." He shakes his head and you sigh, "I didn't think you'd be this sad. I'm sorry, I thought it would help."

"I did too," he mumbles, "at first. But then I realized I'm way too nervous to even leave this fucking room. I don't want to make a fool of myself but I already have. Every word I say has been a horrible, embarrassing mistake that I think about for hours, even days after the fact." He sobs, "I'm so stupid. I don't even know how to talk to my only damn friend. I'm sure she doesn't care anymore, I know I wouldn't care about me at this point. It's funny, really. I feel so alone, but I'm doing it to myself so it doesn't even count."

"It counts," you tell him softly, "it counts. Your feelings matter," you slowly move to lay down with him. "What do you think will happen if you go out there?"

"I'll do something wrong, I'll piss someone off and then they'll never want to associate themselves with me again. I'll say something offensive, make someone upset. I don't want to be a bother or a nuisance, more than I already am. I don't want them to feel like they're obligated to put up with me. It's not their responsibility to try to work around all my problems. I just- I don't want them to hate me and the only way I can achieve that is by staying in here.

"None of that will happen, you won't mess something up. I promise."

"Yes I will," he murmurs, "i can't do it. It's way too much. I'm really sorry. I'll be fine in here, I will. I promise. Don't worry about it."

"Bro," you whisper, "I want you be comfortable, and if that means you have to stay in here that's alright. You don't need to do anything you don't want to." You pause, "if you want to go home tell me."

"Uh, kid?" He says softly, you hum as a reply. "I know you probably want to hang out with your friend," his voice cracks, "but could you stay with me, just for a bit?" His next words are so quiet you hardly hear them, "I miss you."

That sentence breaks your heart. Because it's only now you realize you've left him alone this whole time. You were so caught up in doing shit with roxy you forgot that he isn't actually sleeping all day. He's boxed up in here, without anyone to talk to or anything to do. No wonder he's so upset. It's like when he lived by himself only he doesn't have liquor to distract himself.

"I'll stay, we can chill all day," you tell him, moving to grab his laptop and turn it on. When you have to connect to the wifi you realize he hasn't touched the device since you arrived. Has he just been staring at the walls doing nothing? Has he been upset, lonely and crying this whole time? God, you fucked up.

You open up Netflix, put something on and arrange everything so you're both comfortably lying down while watching the show. He's already calming down, his tears are subsiding, he's shaking less and you can tell he really needs you, has needed you this whole time. So you softly run your fingers through his hair, soothing him further.

About an hour into binge watch a series you decide to participate in some top tier cuddling. You turn to him and curl into his chest. He puts his arms around you, holding you close. You can feel his ragged breathing, how his chest sputters and tries to take in air. Even while he's calm his body has a natural response to be out of whack. It'd probably be better if he are regular meals.

"Do you feel okay?" You ask as you tune into the far too fast beating of his heart.

"I'm really anxious."

"Breathe." You say gently, listening to him struggle to pull in air. Eventually his throat catches and he starts crying again. He's having a worse time than you thought. You comfort him, trying your best to keep him calm. The day continues like this, him watching shows with you until he loses control and he starts crying again. It's a sad cycle until he falls asleep in the middle of a drug documentary. You stay with him until dinner comes around and you decide to hang out with roxy for the rest of the night.

 _ **TO BE CONTINUED...**_


	26. Chapter 26

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY PRECIOUS CHILDREN ILY AAAAAAAAAAA**  
this was alittle rushed near the end so i could get it posted today so i apologize for any mistakes  
to leigh- I haven't been posting a lot of daves workplace bc they aren't canon characters and idfk how everyone feels abt it. I don't want to heavily rely on background characters but it's basically necessary at this point.  
Trigger warnings- mentions of non-con

* * *

 **Day 8**

"Dirk," you whisper hesitantly when he finally wakes up. He yawns and nods, indicating he heard you. "I was wondering if…" you pause, "if we could go home." You say sadly and he smiles. You figure he knew it would come to this soon. It was getting more and more obvious that you can't stay here.

"Yeah, we can go home." He says softly.

"But, I was thinking." You continue and he looks at you curiously. "It might be a lot easier if they come to the apartment. I can pay if they want to stay in a hotel, and I can pay for their trip home. I just, I want to hang out with her but I don't like staying here. I feel really bad because her house is beautiful, and she's being so kind, but i don't know if I can do this anymore."

"I think that's a really good idea!" He exclaims happily, "do you want to ask rose? I can take you to her." You nod again, you honestly want to get home as soon as possible so you can take a long shower and drink some hard liquor. He stands and helps you up, handing you a jacket. Both of you find your shades before he takes your arm to lead him out of the room. You're obviously nervous so he hurries to where you assume rose will be. When you enter she puts down her book with an incredibly surprised expression. He rubs your arm so you try to talk.

"Uh," you can't even look at her, "I can't stay here." You hesitantly stop staring at the ground and see her nod sadly, "but I was wondering if you wanted to come with us back to my house." This makes her smile brightly.

"That sounds wonderful!" She says happily, "I'd love to, I bet roxy will be all for it. Why don't you sit down, I'll help you back to the room so Dirk can talk to her." Dirk lets go, rubbing your back before leaving the room. You sit next to her.

"Well, I was thinking I could buy you guys a hotel, or you could stay in the apartment but then you'd have to sleep with me. You can use my jet to fly back." You take a deep breath, "your house is amazing but I need to go home."

"I understand, I'm happy you recommended this." She really does look happy, "you don't have to get a hotel if you don't find it necessary. I'm fine staying with you and I'm sure roxy won't mind. If you need to sleep with Dirk we can stay in his room." That probably works better, your sleeping patterns are so fucked up as it is. She'd have to stay in order to know when you're awake and functioning. You nod and she asks, "when do you want to leave?"

"Not to sound rude, but as soon as possible?"

"Alright, let me help you to the room. I'll figure everything out but I'm sure we can leave today." She stands, you following her through the halls. When she gets to the door she pulls you into a hug. For some reason you don't flinch, you just hug back. "I'll see you in a few hours. I'm sorry this was so hard on you."

"It's not your fault. You did all you could."

"I think I should have done more." You shake your head, letting go to move into the room. This is where you turn on your phone, contacting the pilots that you need a plane ride back today. They don't question the change in schedule, they just tell you the estimated time of arrival. You thank them before hanging up. Next you gather up all of your clothes, grabbing a clean outfit that you change into before packing your bags.

You decide to lay down until it's time to go. You're really eager, you want to be somewhere other than this large, dark room. You doze off until you hear the bedroom door open. Dirk shuffles around and you hear the zip of his suitcase. He's walks over to you, pokes your stomach and you squeak.

"Everyone is ready to go."

"what time is it?"

"Like 10:30."

"Cool," you sit up and stretch, grabbing your bag. He leads you to where rose and roxy are waiting. Somehow they already have a cab waiting. Together you walk to the vehicle, shivering at the sudden, cold temperature. You forgot it's snowy and freezing here. You pile into the car, sitting up front while everyone else gets in back. You give the desired address and deflate when the car starts moving. You're so relieved, you'll be home soon.

You end up zoning out completely until you're in front of the airfield. You don't know if they had any sort of conversation, or even tried to talk to you. You just pay and tip the driver as everyone grabs their bags. You lead them through the building easily. As you're outside, walking to the jet, you hear rose.

"Is this yours?" She asks, you hadn't realized she was walking next to you. You nod and she whistles, "damn, how much was it?"

"Too much," you answer, waving to the pilots once you're close enough. They greet you happily, you bet they're glad you're not intoxicated or crying. And when you climb on roxy starts talking about the fancy interior and leather seats. Dirk chats with her happily, sitting next to eachother. You sit on the couch, rose settling next to you.

"If you get bored there's books everywhere, and we can watch something on the computer." You say as the plane takes off.

"I'll find a book." She stands and looks around, finally finding the old Harry Potter books you keep in here. You stole them when you were young, Dirk needed some sort of entertainment. She grabs a couple and sits next to you again. About 10 minutes into the flight your eyes slide closed, 5 more minutes pass until you subconsciously lean on her, falling asleep shortly after.

* * *

 **Day 9**

When you come around your head is resting in rose's lap while she reads the book in her hand. You look around, seeing both dirk and roxy asleep in reclining chairs. After a few seconds you sit up, stretching. It's late, you figure you slept for a awhile. The sky outside of the windows is dark. When you finally address rose she's smiling lightly.

"Why did you buy a jet?" she asks once you're alittle less out of it.

"Back when dirk lived in texas and i lived in california i would fly back and forth like every week. It got really shitty having to use commercial airlines so i decided to buy a jet."

"I see," she replies and you nod. You don't think you can fall asleep again, so you take a deep breath and decide to distract yourself. You look at rose and ask, "will it annoy you if I watch something?"

"No, I was getting rather bored of reading anyways."

"Cool," grab your laptop and turn it on. Rose laughs at your background of sweet bro drawn by Dirk before you start to look through your files. Once you find something decent you play it on at a low volume. Minutes pass until you decide to say something.

"Thanks for agreeing to do this." You say and she nods. "I might have been being a bitch or something but I felt like I was suffocating."

"It's fine, if anything i'm sorry," she says, "I knew you didn't like it, just not quite that much. I wish you would have said something sooner."

"I didn't even want to leave the room," you laugh softly, "talking to Dirk and telling him seemed like too much work. I was planning on staying there the whole time," you laugh pitifully.

"You should talk about that type of thing, it's important."

"I guess." There's a short pause, "your cats are super nice and smart. Never thought a feline could open a door but i have been proved wrong."

"They really like you. Half of them attack eachother when they're in a general vicinity. They're outdoor cats, a few of them starting as strays so they're not exactly as nice as they were being to you."

"Do they go out and fuck around in the snow?"

"Yeah, we have a cat door so they go out whenever they want."

"Wouldn't that freeze their cute little feet? The toes rose," you giggle softly and she can't help chuckle in response. She seems very content right now, you don't really know why. It doesn't process that this is the most involved you've been in a conversation in the last week. "What about their little bean toes?"

"I think their toes will be alright."

"I hope so." You lean against her, praying she won't get mad at the movement. Instead she just rests her cheek against the top of your head. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"It's fine." She says and you smile softly as she puts a hand around your back, holding you close. You like having someone close to you, knowing they don't think you're disgusting.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Almost 4 hours, the kids fell asleep awhile ago."

"Do you want to sleep?"

"No, I'm enjoying talking like this."

Several minutes pass of you watching the computer screen. You really want to get home but you know the flight still has awhile to go. You want to rest in your own bed and take a shower. You don't even care that the apartment is a huge mess. The livingroom has pieces of metal everywhere. Dirk is finally putting his androids back together. He had to take them apart for the move to the new house. Maybe him and Roxy can put the bots back together.

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to Kanaya." You eventually tell her.

"It's alright. She understands."

"Did she ask questions?"

"She did, but don't worry. I didn't tell her anything personal."

"What did you say?"

"That you wanted some time to yourself. That you get nervous talking to new people, but it's nothing against her. Is that okay?"

"She wasn't mad?"

"Not at all."

"That's good," you exhale softly, "I'm glad I didn't upset her. I was convinced I made her hate me. I really do want to meet her, just- not yet."

"That's fine, I'm sure she'll be delighted to meet you when the time comes."

"You're so nice, all of you are so kind."

"You deserve kindness, you've been through alot."

"Some people had It worse."

"Not really," she whispers and you hum. "I think it's amazing, you've come so far." You subconsciously try to get closer. "It's inspiring really."

You can't help but smile sadly. "I was lucky rose. I was just really fucking lucky. I don't know how this happened. I was nothing and then all of a sudden people started approaching me on the street. Every film I make is horrible but people still like it. They eat up the ironic bullshit for no good reason. I don't get it."

"Do you not like what you create?"

There's a pause, you're speechless. It takes awhile for you you even start to figure out what to say. Eventually you exhale deeply.

"I love making movies, it's one of the only things I genuinely enjoy doing. I like that I can channel the only good thing from my childhood into my life. I don't want to do anything else." you sigh heavily, "I just don't like being famous. Everyone is all up in my business. They think just because i'm known they can spread obvious lies and harass me. Hate the damn media, fuck the paparazzi."

"Do they follow you?"

"All the time, everywhere, I'm not even exaggerating. I can't go outside without them riding my ass, it's exhausting. It took me a long time to get over the feeling that they were going to attack me. But it still really freaks me out when they decide to swarm me."

"They really do that?"

"Yeah, does it not happen to you?"

"Not to that extent."

"That's lucky."

The pilots indicate they'll be landing soon so you wake up the kids. The descend to the ground is smooth, you really do love the captains of this fine vessel, they're always very professional and good at what they do. You'll pay them whatever the hell they want if they continue to fly you at ungodly hours.

Groggily, everyone grabs their bags and stagger off the plane, you following after a few words of thanks with the captains. They smile and tell you to have a nice time like always. Once all of you are on the ground you get a cab back to your apartment. The drive is long and quiet, everyone alittle drained.

At the apartment you pay for the ride and lead everyone into the elevator. After a short ride to your floor you open the door, everyone stumbling in. Dirk and roxy go straight to his room, probably falling asleep moments later. You end up standing in the livingroom, taking a deep breath and running a hand across your face. You are so fucking happy to be home.

You show rose into your room after getting a glass of water from the kitchen. You sit on the bed watching her put her suitcase on the ground next to yours. You flop down into the numerous blankets and pillows, quickly falling into the most restful sleep you've had in the last week.

* * *

 **Day 10**

You wake up with rose sleeping next to you. You smile, exhaling deeply. You're home, finally, it's like a huge weight is off your chest. You can breathe, you can think, and that's so relieving. You definitely couldn't have stayed there much longer. It was getting really bad, you were losing yourself more each day that passed. You're sure would have tried to do something dumb to make yourself calm down and shut everything out.

Yawning softly you stretch and decide to lay in bed for awhile. Rose is still asleep but you were expecting that. You think everyone is going to be alittle out of it today because of the jet lag. The time difference between New York and California is pretty large so you'll just have to see when everyone actually decides to come around.

You rub your eyes and burrow into the blankets and pillows. You're so happy to be in your own bed. You feel much more comfortable here, like this, in a situation that you're use to. You know where everything is, you can't accidentally break or fuck something up. Now you'll actually know where the hell rose and the kids decided to run off to during the day, and that helps most of all. Part of the reason you stayed isolated is because you had absolutely no idea where everyone was. You weren't going to wander the halls aimlessly and look like an idiot searching for them.

You fumble for your phone, unlocking it to scroll through various social media sites. Nothing is interesting, everyone is superficial and invasive like usual. You end up browsing aimlessly, reading random articles and watching animal videos on silent. Sometimes you go through your film crews social media sites. It's fun to see what they do when you're not around, but it turns out all they do is get drunk, do drugs and shitpost their feelings. Honestly, were you expecting something else? At least they're enjoying themselves.

Eventually you wake up fully and sigh, looking at rose. It seems she's still fast asleep. You see no reason to bother her. Quietly and carefully you get up to grab some clean clothes from around the room. You'd grab something from the suitcase but you want something that smells like your laundry detergent. You never thought about sensory things like this before, you were sure Dirk was the only strider with problems with scent and touch. But the trip showed you that you really only function in situations where everything is just right. And the feeling of roses bedsheets, the stiff but soft duvet. It was very conflicting. It smelt like lavender and that was really overpowering after awhile. Almost sickening.

So you collect a bundle of clean clothes, grab your phone and shades to lock yourself into the bathroom. Awhile back you would have had to worry about there being bloody tissue or stains in the bathroom, but not anymore. Even when you do cut Dirk helps you clean everything up so you don't think about hurting yourself when you see the mess. It helps, when you lived alone you were surrounded by blood stained sheets and carpet. It kept you in a constant state of defeat, desperation and depression. But not seeing puddles of red everywhere makes you feel that much more sane.

You lock the other door and turn on the water, as steam fills the room you stretch, making your back pop with the motion. You undress and walk into the large shower, sighing as the warm water runs over your body. This is wonderful. You're in your own shower, using your own products. Washing the various air pollutants from your skin. You hate the feeling of the stale jet air, it's not exactly a pleasant smell either. But that doesn't matter anymore, because you're washing your tattered skin with apple scented soap. You end up standing under the water for a long time, letting the heat lull you, making you relax from the stress from the last week.

Then a simple thought dawns on you. Coffee. You haven't had a cup of coffee since you left for New York. You are so excited to finally have the bitter drink again, and junk food, anything to eat would be great right now. You ate a grand total of three meals in the last 8 days and you are literally starving. With that in mind you wash the product from your hair and turn off the water.

Quickly you dry yourself and get ready for the day. As you brush your teeth you hear a dramatic yawn from your bedroom. Looking at the clock you see it's 4 pm, maybe everyone will wake up sometime soon. After you shave and brush your teeth you try to dry your damp hair. When you deem everything go be acceptable you hang up the towels and go to the livingroom.

You feel clean and refreshed, like you can start again. Maybe now you'll actually be able to relax on your vacation. In the mansion you were anxious, you heart constantly beating too fast, your breath was short and uneven. It was overwhelming, but now you're good. Everything isn't so out of control, you have a grasp on reality. Focusing on something that isn't you laying in bed, pitying yourself all day. You know all too well overthinking like that is how you fall apart. At least you kept it together, well, as much as you could given the situation.

The livingroom is just as Dirk left it, metal, wires and laptops are scattered everywhere. You have to step around nuts and bolts to get to the kitchen. First, you grab the coffee beans and start a pot. Once that brewing you go through the fridge and throw out all the old food. There's no need to eat week old pizza, that's just gross. But you are hungry as hell so you grab a hot pocket from the freezer and throw it into the microwave. As it cooks you stare out the large, full length windows. You never thought you'd say this but you missed the view. The busy city, smoggy sky and tall skyscrapers. It's familiar, calming. Now that you don't associate California with purely negative you can appreciate the scenery.

The microwave dings so you remove the food and wait for it to cool somewhat. While you're waiting the coffee maker beeps softly. You got Dirk to make the machine quiet, it use to sound like an alarm went off whenever the coffee was ready. You put some into a mug with milk and sugar before shuffling to the couch. You put everything on the coffee table and turn on the tv, making sure the volume is very low.

Slowly, you nibble on the hot pocket and sip the beverage. You're going to need to go out and buy actual food for their stay. You're sure they don't want to eat junk food for the next week. As much as you and Dirk enjoy your unhealthy diet not everyone appreciates greasy, fat filled, frozen food. Cooking is just _so_ much effort. You don't want to deal with that.

You sit, watching the tv absently. You're not paying the least bit of attention. Instead you're thinking about what the producers said to you awhile back. Making a 3rd movie. You really would have to get yourself together before you even start to plan another film. You honestly don't know if it's wise.

You have so many ideas, you have nearly 6 other films written and stored away. But you don't know what to do with them. You know the majority wouldn't be entertaining to the general population. People often have a hard time understanding your work in the first place, so the ones you purposely make super backwards and fucked up would just seem like a huge mess.

So you stare at the large screen and contemplate.

* * *

The front door opening wakes you up. Roxy is still fast asleep and it's 6 at night, you ended up sleeping for way too long. The plane ride was disorienting. You hear bro and rose chatting, the crinkling of plastic bags a few seconds later. Did they go out? Rose is talking about making dinner, telling dave that he should have bought baking dishes by now. He just groans, and you smile. You're so glad they're interacting now.

"Go ahead and cook whatever the hell you want but i'm not helping you."

"Come on dave! You have to learn eventually."

"No I don't. There's frozen food and restaurants for a reason."

"That sounds like it could get old fast," she comments and you agree. It is alittle stale going out for every meal.

"I can't cook, sorry man. Not happening."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"Uh. Everything? I'll accidentally kill you guys. Your cooking is grade A Rose, don't gotta lower the quality by me fucking it up."

"Fine, you really are stubborn sometimes." you laugh to yourself softly, deciding to get up. You carefully climb out of the bed and go into the livingroom. Rose is in the kitchen cutting a loaf of french bread while dave sits at the bar and watches. When he realizes you woke up he smiles, motioning for you to come closer. You do so and he pulls you into a hug.

"Nice to see you finally woke up."

"Nice to see you're back," you respond with a squeeze before letting go. All of you know that means he's finally talking, opening up and responding.

"Is roxy still asleep?" rose asks and you nod, grabbing a soda from the fridge. You sit next to dave, joining the rose cooking channel.

"You guys look entertained." she laughs, both of you are just staring in awe as she moves around the kitchen. "You know I'm only making lasagna, nothing spectacular."

"You make it look so easy," you sigh, "both of us are shit at cooking. We end up burning everything that doesn't come in a plastic wrapper."

"So you've tried?" she asks with a smirk.

"Yeah, we tried awhile back and nearly burnt down the apartment."

"Granted the stove was broken." dave adds and you laugh.

"Yeah it was a piece of shit. But we basically failed and it started a pretty big fire."

"Which I put out with my stellar parenting abilities."

"The glass of coke you were drinking."

"Ruining it for me kid."

"Sorry," you say sarcastically and rose laughs. You go back to watching her layering ingredients into the dish for the meal. You've never had this type of food in the apartment, they're going to see the cat plates dave bought years ago. Each plate is a different hyper realistic cat face.

Rose eventually puts the food in the oven, looking at both of you. "Why don't you guys set the table?"

"Not it." you call out instantly and he frowns before standing and walking to the cabinets. First he pulls out the cat plates and then he grabs some forks and knives, putting them on the table sloppily that was halfhearted at best. He hurries back to sit again and rose shakes her head.

"I guess that's better than nothing." She looks at the table for a second, "wait, dave what the hell are those plates?!" she laughs, walking over to look at one. "These are cats!"

"Yeah, there were other animals but cats obviously trump all."

"Obviously," she agrees, "this is astounding!"

"I'm glad you enjoy my fine china, does it make up for my lack of baking dishes?"

"It just might," she winks and dave chuckles. You chuckle in response because this is so much better than him crying all day. Minutes pass of dave and rose talking, you pull out your phone and browse the internet. You see hal made some sort social media accounts, you're not sure how you feel about that. At least it has next to no followers. For now. You give him a quickly glare and the lights in the shades light up briefly.

TT: Now what was that?

You ignore the message and go back to browsing. Minutes pass until rose removes the lasagna from the oven and sets it on stovetop. After letting it cool she moves it to the table and grabs the roll of paper towels, giving every plate a napkin. Apparently dave's table setting abilities isn't up to par.

"Dirk, please go wake up my lazy daughter."

"Alright," you stand and walk to your room, grabbing a pillow and effectively attacking roxy with it. She startles awake before starting to skreech.

"Dirk WHY?!" she whines, "what did I do to deserve this?!"

"Your mom wants you to wake up, she made dinner."

"Fine." roxy stands, rubbing her eyes. Her hair is a huge mess, makeup all over her face. You lead her to the dinner table where dave and rose are already sitting. You've never used this table for eating like this, sometimes you eat cereal at it when you're really tired.

You sit next to your brother, roxy sitting next to rose. The second she sees the plate she gasps and runs back to the bedroom, grabbing her phone. She runs back and takes a picture of her plate, basically squealing.

"This is the cutest thing i've ever eaten on!" she laughs to herself for a moment before posting the picture. Everyone starts getting themselves food, dave grabbing drinks from the kitchen. Once everything is situated dinner starts with light conversation. Dave actually eats, you find yourself once again impressed by roses cooking and roxy is wearing hal. Overall you think the rest of the week is going to pass smoothly.

* * *

 **Day 11-12**

You and Roxy have been putting the androids back together. Currently you're on the porch, welding while Roxy tightens bolts and runs through lines of code. Rose and Dave are in his bedroom, you assume talking and watching the tv. You're not sure but you're happy they're together.

You finish the section you were working on and sigh, moving onto the next. Roxy is talking to herself, at first you didn't get it but then you realized she's wearing and talking to Hal. He's bothering you less and less over time, like you expected. You finish the last finishing touches and haul the complete pieces into the livingroom.

"We're almost done with squarewave." You tell her and she smiles.

"Hell yeah! Then are we moving onto sawtooth?"

"If you're up for it. The help is making this so much easier."

"I wanna meet the cute lil bots."

"Sawtooth isn't exactly little, or what i would describe as cute," you tell her and she shrugs. This is when you scoot over to her and start attaching the head to the body. You add the last of the computer parts, solder together the remaining wires and close everything up. After putting his hat on you turn to the computer, seeing Roxys organized most of the code for you. You thank her before going through and double checking everything.

"Here we go,". You mutter under your breath, pressing enter and starting the boot up sequence. It takes a few minutes but eventually the eyes light up, he twitches a bit and suddenly looks up. You wait for any sign of an error, seeing nothing overly concerning.

"YO," comes a semi robotic voice and Roxy smiles.

"Hal wants to know why he can't talk."

"Tell Hal to shut the fuck up and take what he can get." You say offhand and move closer to squarewave. You look over everything, double checking the bolts before asking, "you good?"

"WHERE MY HOODIE AT?"

"Shit, right," you go to your room and look around until you find the oversized sweatshirt Dave put on him randomly. He said he looks cold without it, you didn't really feel a need to question it at the time. You bring it back, putting it on him.

"SAWTOOTH IN THE HOUSE?"

"We're putting him back together now."

"WHERE WE CHILLIN DOGG?"

"New apartment, california." He stands and starts walking through the room, inspecting everything. You were expecting about this reaction. Roxy looks really excited.

"I'm gonna hug him!" She says suddenly, running to the bot and pulling it into her arms. To your surprise they hug back, you weren't expecting that. You were sure he wouldn't respond. It seems any technology you make ends up developing feelings and consciousness. As this happens you move to your room and bring out the boxes full of sawtooth. There are alot, he's much taller than his small counterpart.

While Roxy happily plays with squarewave you take out sections of the other bot and start to figure out where you put everything. After some sorting you basically get where you were going with this organization system. Each part of him is in a different box, each limb in their own boxes. Torso and head in the others.

You decide to start on the arms first and the instant squarewave sees what you're doing he stops his fun with Roxy and hovers close to watch. Roxy follows and sits next to you, commenting, "he wants his bro."

You nod and give her the other arm box, showing her what to do as you go. It's easy to get things built when someone else is mirroring the process. Together you get the arms put together in record time and take them out to the porch to weld the finishing touches. This is a fire hazard, there's no doubt about that.

You continue this process, building up parts of the android, rewinding things in intense concentration. About halfway through the legs rose and Dave leave, saying they're going to pick up a pizza for dinner. By the time they get back with two pizza boxes you're finished with the legs, you just have to work on the jet shoes alittle more before you can move on.

The guardians put the pizza in the kitchen and grab a few pieces, sitting at the the table and continuing their past conversation. You get up, putting some food on a plate and setting it between you and Roxy. Working on metal with greasy fingers is somewhat gross but you don't care. You're just focused on the task at hand.

You hardly notice when Dave grabs a bottle of alcohol from the freezer along with two glasses, handing rose an orange soda. They retreat back to his room, laughing and leaving you to your robotics activities.

Both of you continue this for hours, chatting about random things as you tinker with code and metal. Roxy is more of a programmer than a mechanic, but her help is great. She catches on fast and her small hands are handy when it comes to tiny wires. Eventually your eyes get too heavy and you decide to go to bed, leaving a half built sawtooth on the ground as you and Roxy stumble back to your room to rest.

You spend the next day watching anime on the huge livingroom tv as you finish putting together sawtooth. You watch basically two entire series of anime straight, only stopping to eat, go to the bathroom and take small video game and Internet breaks. You'd expect Roxy to get bored of this but it actually looks like she's having a good time.

It's finally come to the point of where sawtooth is completely put together, sitting up against the wall. Like earlier you start the boot up sequence and watch, holding your breath. Eventually he turns on, but says nothing. He doesn't talk much though. So when you get a thumbs up you assume that means he's good to go.

He stands, squarewave walks up and they bro fist eachother before hugging. You've never seen them display that kind of behavior before. But what happens next is only natural, they proceed to have one of the most sick rap battles in the history of the fine art. All your bots are back together and for some reason you feel whole. You thank roxy for her help before going to your room to play video games for the remainder of the day.

* * *

 **Day 13**

You've been half asleep for hours. Some days are alot harder than others, and today is proving to be pretty difficult. But that doesn't seem to bother rose, instead she stayed in bed with you the whole day. She sits with you as you lay and watch the tv. Sometimes you doze off but she's still here when you wake up. And that's what helps the most, when people don't leave you, because bro _always_ left.

"Are you okay?" She asks when you jump awake after a small nap. You just had a dream about bro, so you're not exactly okay at all. Still, you nod and exhale deeply.

"Rose?" She looks at you, "um, hypothetical situation here." That wasn't suspicious at all, "but, if someone… doesn't- if they don't say no is it rape?"

She stops all movement and stares, "if they didn't want it it's rape, no matter what."

"And what if- what if they, um, if they kinda went along with it is it their fault?"

"No," she whispers and tears start falling down your cheeks.

"If they were drugged and maybe happened to-" you gasp suddenly, letting out a few sobs. "People always say it's not rape if you- uh. So, it. It wasn't rape, right? If I participated it's okay, it's not rape then. I'm just being a fucking pussy like always."

"If there is any part of your mind that didn't want it id classify that as rape. No matter what may or may not have happened." She says seriously.

"I'm so confused!" You choke out, "every part of me firmly tells me that I did _not_ want that. That I didn't want to be a part of any of that horrible shit. Thinking about it makes me nauseous. I can't help but remember all the really gross, disgusting, shit I did for him. Shit that literally nobody needs to do. He took me, objectified and blackmailed me."

"But that doesn't change the fact that I was a whore. By like, the 2nd year in he didn't even have to threaten me anymore, I just went with him willingly. Participating like the slut I am. He said such horrible, manipulative shit, called me these pet names and told me I was pretty and beautiful. He played with my feelings until I loved him." You end with a shattered breath.

"I think you telling yourself that you liked it is a coping mechanism. It's too hard to think about the possibility that all of this is his fault so you try to place the blame on yourself. But the truth is that none of this is your fault. None of it. You did what you had to in order to survive and adapt to the situation. What you did was out of fear, out of desperation. You did what you felt would make the situation easier to wrap your head around. You were keeping Dirk safe, right?" She asks softly, voice watery, and you nod trying to wipe your face and breathe.

"Said he'd kill him." you sob.

"It's not your fault," she whispers, "you were manipulated, you were in a really hard situation and you did what you had to. It's not your fault dave, i promise. None of it is your fault. It never was and never will be." She whispers and you sob. After a few seconds you subconsciously reach over and pull on the fabric of her shirt. She looks at you and your breath hitches.

"Rose-" your voice fails and she nods. You honestly don't know what you want, you just keep crying. You really need to calm down sometime soon because you're losing all coherence. Your already uneven gasping is getting progressively shorter, more frantic. You see rose talking to you but you can't hear her. You feel her lightly touch your hand and you whimper, pulling back. You don't know why you had that reaction. You try to apologise but end up sobbing.

You see her get up and leave the room quickly, at first you think she's left you, you've offended her, but seconds later you see dirk. He gently sits you up and holds your face in his hands, making you look at him. You stare at eachother for a few seconds, you're not getting any better. That usually helps but you're just fucked up right now.

He takes one of your hands, linking your fingers together, the other still holding your jaw as you see him hush you softly. You can't hear it but you know you should be able to. You're seriously near passing out at this point, you think that might be preferable. All you want to do is calm down. That seems to be next to impossible at this point.

You close your eyes and try to focus on breathing. After a few seconds you start to hear what you think is Dirk. You squeeze his hand lightly and hear him ask, "can you hear me?" In response. You nod as well as you can and he hums. "Focus on me bro, only me."

You're hyperventilating but trying so hard to calm down. You're using every damn soothing help thing you can think of, but it's not working. You can't calm, even in the slightest.

"Look at me bro." You look at him with blurry, teary eyes. "there we go. You're safe, I'm here, it's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen, just try to breathe. Focus on me," he whispers as you cry. You're completely falling apart. It hurts. You can't process anything anymore, all you know is that you're shaking. You can't breathe, you can hardly hear or feel. All you can process is an odd buzzing and the pounding of your heart.

"Bro, listen to me," you hear Dirk say softly. More tears trail down your face as you attempt to listen. "You need to breathe, will you try with me?" You nod before taking in another painful gasp. "Try to follow. Come on bro, breathe in." You try so hard to take in a breath, it hardly works, "breathe out." You let out the smallest breath before inhaling sharply. He keeps instructing you to breathe. It's hard, labor intensive.

"I can't," you choke out after a few minutes of him trying to help you breathe. So you sob openly, crying and shaking as you lose yourself. It's to the point where both of you realize words or trying to regulate your breathing won't work. So he just holds close you as you shatter. He rubs you back, holds your head to his shoulder and kisses your hair.

You're trying so hard to calm down and it shows. It's always the hardest when you start breathing only for your breath to catch and it starts over. When you really have no control of your body or mind you get really frantic. You feel like it's never going to end.

Minutes pass of complete panic until Dirk leads you to lay down. He holds you to his chest as you cry and hyperventilate. You close your eyes, focus on the feeling of his hand running over your back. Your minds starts to fade, moving between a painful reality and numbing darkness. It's back and forth for minutes until you finally give in and pass out completely.

* * *

 **Day 14**

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

You jump awake with a gasp, sitting straight up when rose and roxy burst into your room. They're yelling at the top of their lungs. Jesus christ, you nearly had a heart attack, it's still beating a mile a minute. Dirk groans, shoving his face under a pillow while you try to calm down.

"Holy shit," you murmur once you get ahold of yourself, what a way to wake up. "That was alarming, i'm usually the one to do this shit."

"Come on cuddlebugs!" Roxy says cheerfully, dirk groans again and you just rub your face, glad you wore long sleeves to bed. "This is our last day here and more importantly your birthdays! We've gotta celebrate!"

"Okay," you yawn, "i'll get the kid to wake up, we'll be out there in a sec."

They nod and leave the room, closing the door. You flop back down, nesting into the blankets. You don't want to get up, neither of you want to get up. You usually just do whatever on your birthday. You use to make it a big deal but all you do now is trade gifts and go to dinner, get some ice cream. But apparently the lalondes have different plans.

"Bro we have to get up," dirk says unhappily.

"No we don't, just lock the doors and go back to bed." You say and dirk laughs. "I want to sleep, it's like," you look at the clock, "3 in the afternoon. Fuck."

"I guess we really should get up."

"Ugh," you huff, stretching before standing with dirk following. "Come on, i need coffee before i can even begin waking up."

The second you enter the living room you're shocked by the sudden sound of party poppers and horns. The entire room is covered with red and orange streamers, pink and purple balloons litter the floor along with confetti and glitter. Ribbons are tied to the furniture, bows stuck to the wall along with a banner sporting the words, 'Happy Birthday!' Rose and Roxy are wearing party hats, they taped a hat on squarewave and sawtooth, hal has bows on the sides of the shades. As both of you stare, completely caught off guard they pull out more party poppers and add to the confetti. There's a large cake on the counter and presents on the never used kitchen table.

"Holy fuck!" Dirk yells as you gape. He smiles, walking past you to look at the decorations. You've never had a surprise party like this. You're honestly moved, this is really nice. You try to convince yourself you won't cry and shuffle over to rose to pull her into a tight hug. She hugs back, squeezing lightly You never expected someone to do this for you, ever. You've done this for dirk, but never like this, never on this scale.

"Oh man! This is the so fucking cool!" dirk cheers happily and you let go of rose, smiling at her. It's a completely genuine smile and she smiles right back. She can tell this made your day.

"This is amazing, i'm shocked." you tell her, delighted.

"That was the goal," she grins.

"I hope you know the streamers are never coming down."

"We spent a good amount of time on them."

"Like three fucking hours." roxy comments.

"We even made a cake, roxy did the frosting if you couldn't tell," you look at the cake, seeing the frosting is a huge fucking mess. You can tell it started well but something happened and she gave up. In bright pink lettering is 'hap birth' surrounded by a bunch of dicks. Half of the cake has a pink border but the other doesn't. You laugh and she continues, "Don't worry, it's store brand. We didn't taint your household with betty crocker."

"You treat me so well." you joke and she laughs. "Wow," you exhale, glancing at dirk and roxy who are talking happily. "I came out here for coffee and got this." you look around again, "Let me get ready and then we can get this party started." She nods so you go to the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. Then you stalk back to your room to change and fix yourself. You get dressed in a grey sweater, jeans with maroon socks. After this you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

When you come back to the livingroom you see dirk hasn't gotten dressed yet. He's still chatting away with roxy who always uses exaggerated gestures during conversation. You go to the coffee machine and make a cup, sitting with rose on the futon. You sip the beverage until she decides to talk.

"Do you have any plans for tonight? We're leaving pretty early in the evening."

"We usually go to a dinner and get some sort of ice cream after. When are you leaving?"

"Around 7 or so, Kanaya has a fashion show soon and needs my assistance."

"She's so good at all that," rose smiles brightly, thanking you. "Well, we can do all the eating shit early so you'll have time. I'll see what I can do about reservations." Pulling out your phone you try to think of a restaurant you could go to. Eventually you sigh and call out to Dirk, "where you wanna eat kid?"

"That sushi place from before." He says without hesitation.

"That's a great idea," you'll even look like a normal human, actually eating something. You call the restaurant, making a reservation later in the evening for the four of you.

"You guys should open your gifts." rose says suddenly and roxy stands, grabbing the boxes on the table. "Do you guys have anything to give to eachother?"

"We thought we'd be at your house so we exchanged gifts before we left." Dirk says, sitting next to you. You sigh and he smirks at you. Then you feel a package being shoved into your hands. Looking down it says it's from rose, dirk has a gift that looks very similar. You awkwardly rip open the packaging, finding a dark red ugly christmas sweater. You love it. It's beautiful, this is honestly one of the best gifts you've received. You instantly know she made this for you and you give her a side hug.

"Rose, this is the best article of clothing i now own." You smirk, "this is fantastic."

"Seriously how do you do all this fancy intricate shit," dirk has a ugly christmas sweater of his own. He's inspecting it with a very amazed look, "thanks rose!"

Rose nods before handing you what looks like a book. You stare at it, seeing the title is 'The Adventures of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'. "This is my fanfiction of sweet bro and hella jeff in hogwarts and i want you to read all of it. Every single word."

"Holy fucking shit." you look at the book, seeing it's pretty long, "Rose, exactly how much did you write?"

"I got alittle carried away." she tells you, "but look inside, i got dirk to draw illustrations." you open the book and skim through, seeing occasional drawings of sweet bro and hella jeff obviously by dirk.

"Where did you get the time to write this?"

"I have alot of spare time. I started writing it and got… invested."

"Well i have to say i'm impressed, this is quite a volume," you say, laughing. They end up giving both of you a few more presents, some handmade, other trinkets bought online or in shops. You didn't expect them to get you this much. But by the end you're a happy mess, you love everything they gave you. Dirk is just as overjoyed as you and everyone gets a giant group hug.

"Why don't you try our wonderful off brand cake?" rose says and dirk gets up enthusiastically. He looks pretty excited so you stand, following rose to the kitchen. She grabs some plates, forks and a knife. She cuts everyone a slice of the cake, sitting everyone down at the table. You take a bite and it's literally everything you expected, completely delicious.

"Damn, good job guys, great cake, 10/10," you say as dirk basically inhales his piece.

You end up talking for awhile until it gets to be about 5. This is when you decide to get everyone gathered to go to the restaurant. The girls pack up their suitcases, Roxy putting on Hal. Dirk had a hissy fit at first, saying he didn't want Hal to come, but she convinced him eventually. You go down to the parking lot, loading the bags in the trunk before everyone piles into the car.

You get to the restaurant quickly and the girl in front leads you upstairs. This part of the building is mint green, cream and brown. Paper lanterns and Christmas lights fill the ceiling while odd geometric patterns show up in random places. You're seated and everyone starts looking over the menu. It doesn't take long for them to get their drinks and then food, which everyone comments on being delicious. Eventually a conversation starts up.

"Dave I have a question!" Roxy tells you with bright eyes and you chuckle. You make a motion to continue and she does, "who's the batterwitch?"

Ah, this.

"Who do you think the batterwitch is?" You ask in reply.

"I don't know! That's why I'm asking." You smile and stay silent.

"Dirk do you know who the batterwitch is?" Roxy asks Dirk and he shrugs.

"Is she the man?" Rose asks and you once again smile, saying nothing, taking a sip of your soup.

"The government?" Roxy asks and you chuckle.

"It's not that simple. You can't just say 'this is the batterwitch' because it isn't concrete like that. It's up in the air, up to your own interpretation."

"Huh." She says, you watch the gears turn in her head.

"So it's an idea?" Rose continues.

"I guess." You sigh, "something like a statement. It's difficult to explain and if I did it wouldn't really matter anymore." You tell them, drinking the tea.

"I see, so do you actually hate Betty Crocker?" Rose asks and you hear dirk groan, almost banging his head on the table.

"What type of question is that? Fuck them and their fucking red sugary upper class propaganda. I swear to _god_ I hate Betty Crocker, I don't know how people don't see this blatant straight up grade A bullshit. It's right there! Right there and people are always saying 'Dave you're being paranoid' this, and 'you're reading too far into it' that. Like god damn! You just aren't actually looking! When you've been subjected to this god damn propaganda your whole life you're blind to the obvious subliminal messages. I don't know how people don't see it, I don't get it, it's infuriating! Fuck it. Fuck Betty Crocker." You sigh heavily, ending your rant.

"Wow," rose says, shocked. If you could see roxy's eyes she'd probably be wide-eyed. Dirk is use to this though, he keeps eating.

"It's there," you exhale, "I may sound like a crazy person but it's there, believe me. I've been onto this since I was a kid." That doesn't make you sound any more sane.

"You know the kids friend Jane, her family c-"

"HA," you cut rose off by laughing sharply, everyone stares, "we ignore that little fact around here. Complete denial of the reality going on. Not even going to think about it."

"Alright," she holds up her hands and you sigh.

"Sorry." you exhale and rub your face, "I've got some strong feelings about this."

"I can tell," she chuckles, at least she's laughing. Some people literally do think you're delusional when you rant like this.

"Lets just… stop talking about Betty Crocker." you huff, defeated.

"Can do," she says, changing the topic. You're relieved, you didn't want to get into that. You get pretty heated just thinking about the bullshit. But you get your head out of your ass and pay attention to the dinner conversation. It's basically dirk and roxy talking about things they're excited for, games releases and new shows. You're content to sip on soup as you listen.

Minutes pass of them eating and talking, you relaxing in the warm surroundings. For once you actually finished eating before everyone so you're staring out the window as they finish their meals. Once everyone is done you get the bill and pay, giving the waitress a generous tip. Gathering everyone you hurry out to the car, climbing in without running into any press.

"It's getting pretty late, should i drive you to the airfield?" You say once everyone is situated in the car. Rose looks at the clock, seeing it's nearing 7:30 pm. It's going to take nearly 6 hours to get back to new york. Her leaving much later would really suck in terms of jet lag.

"Yes, i suppose now is that time." she says sadly and you give her a half-hearted smirk, turning on the car. Their bags are already in the back from loading them in before you left so all you have to do now is drive them to the plane. The problem is, you're going to miss her, even roxy. Having them at the house was refreshing, it gave life to the otherwise stagnant area.

You get caught up in traffic but it's far too fast for your liking, you'd stay in traffic for days if you could stall their departure. But the world doesn't revolve around dave strider so you creep forward with the movement of the masses. Nearly 15 minutes pass before you get out of traffic, and it takes another 5 to get to your destination. Parking, you frown slightly, telling yourself to keep it together.

You open the trunk, getting out of the car and grabbing their bags for them. Without a word you lead them through the building and to your jet. This is where you put down the bags and rose pulls you into a tight hug. You hug back, hiding your face in her shoulder to let out a few broken sobs.

"I'll miss you," you say, voice wavering.

"I'll miss you too dave," she says softly, "but we can come visit again soon, maybe for christmas and new years? If you're up to it we could even bring kanaya." You nod, let go and wipe your face. You ended up crying, you're honestly not even surprised anymore.

"That sounds nice," you say, trying to smile. She smiles back, patting your cheek lightly.

"We'll see eachother soon, and until then we can continue to talk."

"Yeah," she's trying to reassure you and its helping. You hug her again, seeing dirk and roxy hug too, hal now on top of dirk's head. When you finally let go they grab their bags, walking onto the plane. You and dirk wave goodbye, them waving back. Once they're inside the jet you deflate and turn to dirk. Both of you exhale and turn around to walk back to the car and drive back to the apartment.

You end up celebrating the rest of your birthday on the couch, watching shitty horror movies and eating expensive gallons of ice cream you bought on the way home.


	27. Chapter 27

wow an update  
trigger warnings- self harm, alcohol abuse, past child abuse, mentions of the sex trade, and accidental alcohol use

* * *

Everything confuses you.

Half of the time you feel like you're in a fog, nothing makes sense. There's so much of everything everywhere, you don't know why it bothers you so much. All of the sounds, the scents, the colors and lights you experience make you incredibly uncomfortable. It's all so foreign to what you're use to. You just have no idea what you're actually use to. You can't remember.

Bro doesn't make you go anywhere you don't want, he keeps the lights off and stays as quiet as possible. He always makes sure you're comfortable and calm and it helps so much. If he didn't keep such a controlled environment you don't know if you could function. He feeds you alot of bread and cereal, applesauce and pudding. Things that don't make you cringe the moment it hits your tongue.

It's really hard to talk, you know what you want to say but half of the time you can't get the words out. Bro tries really hard but there's only so much he can get out of your half sentences. Despite all of this you can finally express yourself, he reacts when you cry, when you laugh and scream. Nobody ever paid any attention to you in the place from before, but bro pays attention to you all the time, day after day.

Sometimes you see someone you recognize. Bro always puts you in his room and looks really scared when they come over. You don't know what happens when they talk, but you hear a lot of strange things. Most of the time bro is bleeding and covered in weird marks when he lets you out of your room. You swear they talk at night when you're asleep, but you don't really know. You don't know if half of the things you hear are real or not.

You really like to draw, and bro likes to watch you draw. You do it all the time. You fill the pages with colorful shapes and designs for hours while bro sits next to you with a soft smile. Usually you draw whatever comes to mind, but sometimes you copy the patterns you see on the walls. He always stays next to you, nearly all the time. He only leaves when it's dark outside, you're asleep then anyways.

You're learning how to read, bro sits you down with the same books and reads them to you over and over, then he tries to get you to repeat the words, say things with him until you really understand what it means. He taught you your ABCs awhile back and you guess this is the next step. You're catching on easily, you can't stay most of the phrases out loud but you can recognize them and you know what it means. You just wish bro had more than three stories to show you.

People are scary, they make you so nervous. You don't know what to do around them so you just hide in bro's arms. You shove your face in his chest and refuse to look at them. You think they're out to hurt you, just like everyone from before. Bro is the only one who hasn't hit or yelled at you. He never raises his voice, he doesn't even get annoyed. He's the only one who actually gets you.

The only other person who doesn't really freak you out is the girl in the room you go to when you're really hungry. She gives you food, she gives it to bro too but he always makes you eat his plate. You figure he has a reason so you don't question it. All you know is that she gives you food, drawing stuff and is really nice.

So while you're confused, anxious and unstable most of the time, you're happy because you have bro. He won't leave you.

* * *

You live in such a bad part of town. You're surrounded by run down buildings, disgusting alleyways and broken streets. You don't like bringing Dirk out here but he needs to get use to the outdoors. The suburban jungle. So you struggle to hold him as you walk down the street. You just have to get to the park, then you're golden.

You stumble, getting more and more tired. You're always so exhausted, you need literally any chance to rest you can get. You hardly eat, you never sleep, it's honestly hard to stay upright most of the time. Finally, after way too long you get to the park and collapse onto a small patch of grass. Dirk curls up in your lap, obviously nervous. You hold him close, humming softly as he looks around.

"Bro?" He murmurs, you know he wants to know why you're here.

"We're outside kid, gotta get use to all of this. Both of us." neither of you leave the house during the day. You only go out at night, and that's not a fun experience at all. You're just so apprehensive about bringing him outside because of how fickle he is. One little thing is enough to set him off, and being in this busy of a location doesn't exactly seem like a good idea. Still, you're certain this is necessary, staying locked up in the apartment isn't healthy.

You sigh heavily, resting a cheek against his hair, watching a group of people play basketball. You can't even imagine willingly running around like that. It seems horrible. Dirk wiggles a bit so you let go, watching him crawl out of your lap to inspect the ground. He sits next to you, ripping grass out of the dirt piece by piece. You're glad he's exploring, he isn't as scared as you were expecting.

"Bro?" He asks awkwardly, dumping a pile of grass in your nap. You're assuming he wants to know what it's called.

"This is grass kid, isn't it cool?"

"Yeah!" He calls out happily and you laugh. He goes back to inspecting the surroundings. Everything is going really well, you're relaxing despite your overwhelming protectiveness. You think after the years with bro you've developed pretty defensive behaviors, not trusting anyone around what you hold dear. Keep it close, protect with your life.

Then Dirk shrieks fearfully. Your heart stops and on instinct you pull him into your arms. You see a fairly large praying mantis where he was playing and let out a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't bitten by a spider or something. He starts crying and you cradle him to your chest, standing. You hurry to a bench, holding him as he cries. You had a feeling something like this would happen. He doesn't go outside often, and this is the first time you've sat him down on real earth.

"It's okay kid, just a bug." You whisper and he sobs, holding onto you. Some people are staring but that's not surprising. "Can't hurt you, I got cha. It's okay, try to breathe."

"Scary," he whimpers, continuing to cry. You know you just have to wait, he's very easy to upset and even harder to calm down. It's sad, it breaks your heart. You love him and you're going to help him through whatever he needs.

"I know, i'm sorry. Nothing bad is gonna happen, don't worry. You're safe Dirk. You're safe." You kiss the side of his head, reminding him to breathe in and out. You stay like this, repeating the process for almost five minutes before he starts to calm down.

"Wanna go home kiddo?" He nods, "alright, let's go." You stand, hold him so he doesn't have to move and start walking back to the apartment. He clings onto you, shaking slightly while struggling to breathe. You wish this could have ended better.

* * *

You hate school, you hate it more than anything else. It smells, it's loud and cramped. You've never been around this many people your age. They're all so dumb, completely stupid. Bro taught you the things you're supposed to be learning years ago. You taught yourself all of the math too, multiplying and dividing, fractions and percentages. It's all way too easy, almost insulting. The only thing you learn in school is about history and science.

You've begun to understand that not everyone is as nice as bro. It's actually quite the opposite, everyone is mean, the other kids are rude. They call you things and push you around. You figured out why bro makes you wear shades, people don't like the color of your eyes at all. They seem to find it acceptable to get up in your face and poke and prod at you when they see that your eyes are amber. You wish they had manners.

The food they serve is absolutely disgusting. It honestly couldn't be worse. Bro packs you what he can but you still have to go through the line occasionally. Half of the time you can't eat it, you can hardly look at it without cringing. You've started just eating fruit. Apples, oranges, whatever they have there that isn't bruised or rotten. It isn't much but it's better than what they cook. The first time you tried to eat it you nearly threw up.

You've never had adults be so cruel to you, at least you don't remember it. But the teachers and lunch ladies are so unpleasant. They treat you differently from the other kids and you have no idea why. Is it because of your shades? That's the only conclusion you come to. You look like everyone else, you're groomed and your clothes are clean. The only ones who are nice to you are the librarian and art teacher. They let you check out more books than what's allowed. Probably because you bring all of them back the next day. You've read almost 3/4th of the library so far and dread the day you run out of books.

Art class is outrageously fun, it's the only thing you actually enjoy about school. There are so many supplies and colors. You didn't know what clay was before but you love it, you love painting, you love everything. The teacher lets you draw whatever you want, the other kids have to do projects but they let you paint and draw the intricate patterns you enjoy so much. They watch you draw the kids and scenes around the art room with a weird expression on their face. They say your art is really good, that you're incredibly talented. You guess you do draw very differently compared to the other kids in class. You draw what you see while they just scribble whatever mindlessly

You're not allowed in the computer lab anymore, even when the class goes in. Ever since you started taking everything apart, writing lines of code and messing with the programs they banned you from the computers. The only way you can use them is if a teacher is right there, it's annoying. You didn't know taking the computer apart wasn't allowed. You didn't know you weren't supposed to go into the operating system. Bro lets you take everything apart so you thought it was okay. The teacher really didn't like that explanation.

But when bro has to come to school everyone is even more mean. They say blatantly disrespectful things, putting him down and treating him like he's not a person. You can't stand when they call him names, telling him he's a horrible guardian. He looks completely normal when they say these things but when you get home he starts crying. It's not fair, none of it is fair. You just want to stay home all day and watch movies with bro. You hate school.

* * *

The alarm next to the futon starts playing a talk station on the radio, bringing you out of your uneasy slumber. You stare at the wall for a few seconds before reaching over to turn it off. Groggily, you sit up and rub your face in an attempt to wake up. After stretching with a yawn you stand up, almost falling while doing so.

You stalk to dirk's room, opening the door and peeking in, finding him wrapped in multiple blankets. All of the random stuffed animals you've bought him over the years surrounding him like an army. You smile and walk to the window, opening the blinds. He shifts as you sit next to him, rubbing his back. After a minute or so you softly murmur, "wake up kiddo." When you scratch his scalp he groans. You sigh and try again, "come on Dirk, it's time for school. Please get up."

"No," he whines, turning away from you, "don't wanna."

"Dude," you flop down next to him, making him smack you softly. "Take a shower. Education is the key to success."

"Can't get up bro, it's impossible."

"Really?" You chuckle, tickling his side. He jumps with a yelp, "I think you can do it. I believe in you."

"I hate you so much." He huffs, obviously annoyed.

"Ouch kid, that hurts. I'm crying up in here." You smile and pet his hair softly, "please get up."

"Fine."

"Thank you," you kiss his nose, "now don't fall asleep, I'll be back if you don't get up."

He groans loudly and you take that as a cue to stand up and leave his room, walking to the kitchen. You hear Dirk stumble out of his room, into the shower and let out a relieved breath. Some days you have to fight really hard to get him to school. He can get pretty stubborn and belligerent at times. You're glad it went so well today, that's alot of stress off your shoulders.

You silently shuffle around, putting some bread in the broken toaster, watching to make sure it doesn't burn. It pops out and you place it on the plate. After buttering the toast you take the plate and wait by the bathroom door for him. You hear the shower turn off and minutes pass until he exits. He stops when he sees you, staring questioningly.

"We're gonna eat in your room kiddo." You usually eat in the livingroom but the futon is disgusting from bro visiting a few nights ago. He nods and walks into his room, sitting on his bed. You turn on the light and settle next to him, handing him the plate. He takes it and instantly starts eating. Laying on the bed you stare at the stained ceiling. There's so much mildew, it's probably some sort of health hazard.

Time passes, you keeping an eye on the clock. You're so tired right now, you feel bad for him. Going to school this early wasn't fun for you either. When you hear him set the plate on the ground he lays next to you, curling into your side. Whining pitifully he mumbles, "bro I wanna stay home."

"I know." You whisper back, "I can't let you stay home for no reason though. School is real important and I'd get in trouble. Don't you wanna get smart?"

"You said I'm already smarter than my teachers." Right, you definitely told him something along the lines of that. You really should watch your wording.

"Dirk- I mean." You're trying to think of a smooth way to work around this. "Yeah, you're smarter than them but that doesn't mean you can't learn from them. You think those fancy old people got smart without listening to teachers?"

"My teachers can't even do math!" He complains, "they're so dumb! I could explain everything better than them."

"Be nice," you tell him sternly, "you still have to respect them."

"Why? They don't respect you or me." He says sadly, alittle defensively and your heart breaks.

"Some people are just rude," you look at him, staring at bright Amber eyes, "but you have to be the bigger person, be the person they're not. Show them why they should respect you. If you're nasty back you're just as bad as them."

"You're just nice," he grumbles, but you know he got the point. You laugh softly and rub his back, looking at the clock.

"It's time to go kiddo, get your backpack and shades. I'll meet you by the door." You leave the room and grab your sunglasses, standing by the front door. Dirk appears, yawning dramatically. He puts on his shoes slowly and once he's situated you grab his hand, leading him out of the apartment.

He starts talking to you about random things, you making noises of agreement every so often. Once you get to the bus stop you stand together, watching cars pass. The bus pulls up after almost 5 minutes of waiting. You turn to dirk and he gives you a big hug, you hugging back just as tight. "Have a good day at school kid, i'll see you really soon. I love you."

"Love you too," he lets go and jumps on the bus. You watch as the vehicle pulls away and stand in the same place as it becomes smaller and smaller. You wait for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, staring at the ground. You don't know what to do now. You turn around and go back to the apartment, feeling a numbing loneliness in your gut.

* * *

You've been on the streets for some years now and a you're starting to think you can hold your own. It started off as you giving people blow jobs but once bro started taking advantage of you it desensitised you to sex you gave up saving yourself and started going all out. People never mention your cuts, scars or bruises- even when they're really bad, they just use you and move on. They don't care.

The time you got beaten instead of being paid made you start carrying a small knife and request payment up front. Some nights you don't get more than $40, but other nights you make it big. They take you to their car or more often hotel where they play out their sick depraved fantasies while you dissociate completely. You get upwards of $800 on those nights and you think that makes it worth it. With that you can get food, buy Dirk nice things and pay for the water bill.

Now you're walking home, playing with your hands as cars pass. It takes minutes until you get to the building and up the stairs. Unlocking the door you yawn openly, you're so fucking exhausted it's insane. Once inside you lock the door behind you, kick off your shoes and go to the bathroom to shower. After washing your body and brushing your teeth you fold down the futon and flop down headfirst. You don't grab a pillow or blanket and barely remember to set the alarm for 6:45am before passing out completely.

/.../

You wake up to your clock ringing on the floor next to you, the shrill buzzing hurts your pounding head. You groan and sit up, still incredibly tired. You might take a nap when Dirk goes to school, but the last time you did that you nearly forgot to pick him up from the bus stop. You sit up and look around, It's bright and hot and you feel like utter shit. You hope bro doesn't visit soon because your body is full of conspicuous bruises and he'd quickly connect the dots.

You try to stay calm, you really do. But you end up shoving your face into your hands and letting out a silent sob. You can't break down first thing in the morning, but you don't think you can function normally right now. You just have to wait until dirk goes to school before you can fully submit to your emotions. You take a deep breath, stand up and go to wake up dirk. You knock on his door lightly and enter, opening the blinds and sitting next to him.

"Wake up kid," You tell him hoarsely, shaking his shoulder lightly. "C'mon Dirk, wake up." He looks up at you, displeased and probably as tired as you are. You watch as he slowly sits up, stretching with stiff motions. "Go take a shower. Time for school."

"You okay?" he asks once he wakes up a bit and you nod, he's so perceptive anymore. To your relief he goes to the bathroom to get ready without a fight. You use this opportunity to take out your hidden wallet and put tonight's earnings with the rest of your money. Once it's together you hide it deep in your closet and make sure it's somewhere that dirk can't reach. You look around the room for a clean shirt for yourself. You come across a raggy old sweater and switch it with your own. You don't bother with changing pants, this pair is clean enough.

You go to the kitchen and make dirk toast with your nearly broken toaster. He'll eat it and it's somewhat cheap, that's a win-win for everyone. Once that's buttered and on a plate in the kitchen you sit on the futon, waiting for dirk to get dressed and eat. You watch the clock and think about absolutely nothing until it's time to walk him to the bus stop.

"Dirk, are you ready?" You call out and jump when he answers yes quickly, much faster than you were expecting. You stand, turn to him and try to smile. It's incredibly hard and as always he looks worried, you likely look as horrible as you feel. "Let's go kiddo."

You walk him down the stairs and down the street to the group of children waiting for the bus. You say goodbye, pat his head and turn around to hurry back to the apartment. It's difficult to ascend the stairs and you nearly collapse onto floor once you're back home. Turning into a sobbing blob right next to the front door. You cry because you hate what you do, because you hate yourself, you hate everyone. They're all disgusting, so petty and greedy. It disgusts you, it makes you sick.

You shutter, breath catching in your throat. You don't know how much longer you can keep doing this. You're at the end of your rope, you think maybe dirk would be better off with someone else. If you killed yourself he would probably go to a nice foster family, but there's the possibility he'd go back to bro. You just want to die, to not exist, maybe you just want a normal life.

You're feel so out of sorts. You're having a hard time justifying your actions. Yes, you got alot of money for letting that man have his way with you. But does that really make up for what you did? You're not sure. All that you know is that you're absolutely disgusting and disgraceful. Between your hysterical sobbing you absently choke out.

"So gross. So gross. Fucking disgusting. Gross, gro-" you cut yourself off when you choke, hyperventilating. When you start to realize you're not going to calm you let go and break down. You feel like utter shit, seriously contemplating killing yourself. It'd be so easy, you could just call the police, tell them where to pick up dirk and jump off the roof. You could take a mixture of drugs, but then dirk would find you later. You desperately try to get ahold of yourself but it's not happening.

Slowly you stand and stagger to your bathroom. You turn on the light, lock the door, and grab your razors from their hiding place. Apparently you can't even handle your own emotions without hurting yourself. You sit on the dirty tile, rolling up your sleeves. You look at your arms, most of the cuts being healed already. You really should go talk to someone, but you have absolutely nobody to talk to. You're alone.

You take the blade and slice it across your skin with little to no expression. It's not enough, it's never enough anymore. You keep slashing, creating multiple cuts of different depths, each one deeper than the last. You're losing yourself in the pain and red, hyperventilating and crying. You're lightheaded, ears ringing and eyes blurring as you bleed onto the tile.

You're fucked, this is fucked up, everything you do is utterly fucked up. With this thought in your mind you slash down your arm, not even watching what you were doing. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad and you let out a sob of pure pain. You continue to cry, trying to wipe the tears with your good hand. You end up smearing blood on your face, this shouldn't be so messed up.

You're about to try to get tissue to stop the bleeding when the bathroom door opens. You know it can't be Dirk, he's at school and doesn't know how to unlock doors. So you stare up at bro, arm heavily bleeding and hysterically crying. You can't calm down, this is so fucked. You have no idea what he's going to do.

"Holy shit lil man." He sounds impressed, "you're getting good at this shit. If you're not careful that one'll kill you." He points to your arm and when you look down you gag. The last cut was incredibly deep, worse than anything you've done before. You didn't mean for that to happen. You look up at him, terrified. "Aww, want big bro to save you?"

You nod frantically, you don't actually want to die. That wasn't your intention. He hands you a towel and tells you to hold it to your arm. You do and he walks to the other room. He returns some time later and hands you a pill, saying it'll make you numb. You take it as he fumbles around and seconds later you can hardly see anything. You slouch over and he makes you lay on the hard tile.

You slightly process when he grabs your arm and you close your eyes, waiting for what comes next. You feel an incredibly sharp pain over and over, but you can't react. You can't even move, let alone hiss in pain. This continues for what feels forever, it hurts so much despite the drug he gave you. Honestly you're thinking it only made you limp, not numb. There's one final, very painful jab and tug before he fumbles around again. You feel something cool cover the abused flesh and you sigh lightly. That leaves and it's tightly wrapped in what you assume is a bandage.

You're left on the floor for awhile, you're thinking he's gone until you're lifted off the ground. Moments later you're dumped on the futon where he changes your bloody shirt. You realize you're on a few pillows, a blanket covering you seconds later. You feel a hand on your head, stroking your hair softly. You don't know why he does this. He's so nice sometimes and it confuses you so much.

"I hid your little razor, I cleaned up your bloody mess, saved your life." He whispers, putting your phone next to you. "You owe me."

/.../

You wake up to the sound of the front door opening and you instantly know you overslept. You hear Dirk take off his shoes and put his backpack next to the door. You're so guilty, such a bad guardian. You made him walk home all by himself in such a scary part of town. He goes into his bedroom and you hide your face in your pillows, letting out a silent sob. You feel like utter shit all the time. You just want a fucking break.

Even though you try to keep calm you end up brokenly crying into your pillows. You hear dirks door open, and then you hear him shuffle over to you. You attempt to shut up but you just wheeze instead. He doesn't need to see you like this but you can't move to escape to the bathroom.

He sits down on the bed, laying next to you moments later. He crawls under the blanket and hugs you tightly. You can tell he's worried, he's so smart that he must know something is really, really wrong with you. He just hugs you as you gasp for air, as you hyperventilate and sob your heart out.

"I love you bro." He whispers softly and you smile despite the situation.

"Love you too kid," you let out a broken sob, he's the only reason you're trying. Why you're still alive.

"Why are you sad?"

"I did something stupid," you're glad he can't see your face right now, "something really stupid and now I have to deal with it. Can you go to your room for a bit?"

"No."

Wow, you weren't expecting that.

"You always tell me it's not good to hide when you're sad," he hugs you alittle tighter, "and you hide everytime you're sad."

You can't reply to that, but you can start sobbing grossly. You want to look strong in front of him, and this isn't strong. This an utter mess.

* * *

You're sitting in front of your computer with a nearly expired bottle of hot sauce in your hand. You're not too sure where bro got this, it was shoved in the back of your refrigerator. To be honest it doesn't look like hot sauce at all. As you examine it you think you should figure out a new video idea. You shouldn't stoop to this level.

But you have 2,000,000 subscribers and you're only 13, you need to do something! People have been telling you to eat something disgusting. You don't understand why they want you to do this. Literally anything else would be better. You already have so many reservations about food in the first place, of course they don't know this.

So you grab a cup from the kitchen and turn on the camera, it's now or never. You turn on a few lights and get everything set up. Once you're sure everything is working you press record.

"Hey, what's up. I'm here to thank you all for 2 million subs! I didn't really have anything planned but a few people recommended a couple of ideas. And as it turns out alot of you told me to eat something gross." You hold up the bottle.

"I found this in the back of the fridge. It's the only somewhat old thing we have." You shrug, "So this looks like some really horrible hot sauce and I guess I'm going to drink some."

You pour some into a cup, noticing it doesn't have the same consistency of hot sauce. You sniff it and honestly don't know what to think. You're under the impression that this is either very old or not what you think it is. You decide you're just gonna have to do it so you drink the entire glass quickly. As soon as it's down you know you fucked up. You know you should have tested it first.

"That wasn't hot sauce."

You end the video jump from the computer chair to sprint for the bathroom. As soon as you're on the floor you're throwing up into the toilet. The mixture of favors was horribly strong and artificial. It was honestly disgusting. It was like cough medication and rubbing alcohol at the same time. A few minutes into your misery you hear the front door open. Bro must have come home, you're so relieved. As soon as he hears you he about runs to the bathroom.

"What's wrong kid?" He asks from the doorframe before settling next to you.

"I- I drank some, um, hot sauce from the fridge?" You gasp out before continuing to hack.

"What?" It sounds like he has no idea what you're talking about. You sharply motion to your room so he gets up and walks to it. After a few seconds you hear him pick up the bottle. Then you're pretty sure he tastes it because he gags followed by a gasp.

"Oh god, Dirk. How much of this did you drink?" He calls out frantically, you just keep throwing up in reply. "I'm sure you've figured this out by now but this isn't hot sauce. This is a mixture of alcohol and cough syrup."

He walks back into the bathroom and sits next to you with a deep sigh. He stays close, rubbing your back as he reminds you to breathe. You thought he would be mad for some reason but as it turns out he's just incredibly concerned. Once you're basically done gagging your whole mind and body feels weird. You can't seem to move.

Without a word he easily collects you off the ground and into his arms where he carries you to your room. He tells you reassuringly, "You're gonna feel real weird for awhile, but I'm right here. I have you."

You curl up next to him, pressing your forehead into his leg after he settles down on the bed. You're lightheaded and nauseated, it hurts honestly. You're glad you didn't drink all of it, you're glad you threw up as much as you did. He has one hand on your back, the other feels your cheek or forehead occasionally. After almost ten minutes you're no longer shaking and close to losing your last meal.

"How're you feeling kid?" He asks while smoothing your hair out of your face. You shift and sigh lightly before answering.

"Weird," you mumble and he hums.

"I know, you'll get use to it soon. Why the hell did you drink that? I can't get you to eat anything, I'm curious as to why you'd willingly go off and drink unidentifiable hot sauce."

"I got 2,000,000 subscribers on YouTube."

"Good job kid," he congratulates and you giggle slightly, "so you did it for a video?"

"Yeah, I guess." Your voice is so heavy, your words slurred and awkward. "Sounds dumb."

"Naw, you're the coolest kid around."

"You're an idiot." You tease dumbly while shifting slightly, placing your fucked up head in his lap. Your mind and body are warm and dazed, most of your movements aren't of your own accord. It doesn't seem to bother or surprise him. You smile up at him and he smiles back.

"Such harsh words, I'm hurt." he jokes and you laugh again, looking up at him while he's watching you. He looks pretty concerned under the smirk. "How're you doing?"

"I feel pretty funny, but better."

"Yeah? That's good, as long as you're feeling better."

"Help me up," you hold out your arms and wiggle a bit.

"You're on top of me kid," He scoffs.

"Excuses," you sit up, but your head doesn't like that. It swims and you collapse back down onto his lap "Oh wow."

"Is sitting up not a good idea?" He asks with a laugh, carding a hand through your bangs. You shake your head and close your eyes.

"I thought I was gonna pass out." You sigh and stretch. "Imma try again."

You sit up, head bowing slightly. You feel Dave straighten you out and you take a few deep breaths.

"I should record the rest of the video." You mumble when your eyes finally open. "Can you help me to the computer?"

"Sure," he helps you up and sets you in the computer chair. Once you're stable and sitting on your own he retreats to your bed. You wake up the computer and start to watch through what you recorded earlier. You cringe as you watch yourself down the mixture on screen.

"You drank alot of that, shit." Dave comments in shock and you nod. You drank a lot more than you expected.

"I'm gonna record now, so shut up." You say without thinking.

"Dirk!" He almost yells.

"Sorry…" You look back at him and smile apologetically. "But I'm actually recording now."

"Hey guys, I'm back! As it turns out I just chugged a mixture of…" You look back at bro, suddenly drawing a blank. He helps and continues for you.

"Everclear, coding and cherry syrup. Basically lean on steroids."

"Yeah, that! So it's safe to say I feel alittle weird. But I did this for you guys! Thanks for all of your support, even if most of you make fun of me. It's really chill being this young and having so many people watch my content."

You end up recording almost 10 minutes of you babbling on and on. You say thanks in as many ways as you can, basically mumbling nonsense halfway through. You see Dave trying to keep cool and not laugh in the background, he's covering his mouth and looking away. Eventually you trail off and stop recording. You'll save editing for another day. As you begin to go through the Internet you start to get distracted, to the point where you almost fall out of the chair. Of course Dave is next to you instantly and keeping you upright.

"Wanna go watch something on TV?" He asks and you nod in agreement. He helps you stand and leads you out to the living room. He turns on the cable after putting you on the seat. You grab the remote as he shuffles around in the kitchen behind you. It doesn't take long for you to come across something entertaining and soon Dave hands you a plate of food. It's leftover pizza from the other night. You start eating instantly, him sitting down next to you. You end up eating all of the food quickly and falling asleep shortly after.

* * *

You're sick of this.

You're sick of all this shit. You hate the world around you and for once you're mad. You're pissed at nothing and everything at the same time. You feel powerless, rejected by everyone and everything. So your first thought was to drink, maybe to even out your mood, but that turned out to fuel the flames and now half of your possessions are broken. Your computer is smashed, your whole room is in ruin.

You stand in the middle of your California bedroom, sobbing openly into your bleeding hands and surrounded by the chaos caused by your actions. You've never lashed out like this before. You never get mad, you get sad. Anger is the emotion that scares you the most. It takes control, overriding all other thought. All of this is terrifying because you're surrounded by a visual representation of how utterly fucked up you are.

Broken glass covers the ground from where you punched mirrors and picture frames. Honestly you chucked anything breakable at the wall. You took your computer and threw it on your glass desk, shattering both of the objects and making the piles of paper fly everywhere. You feel disgustingly selfish.

The only way you know how to remedy this is to do to yourself what you did to your possessions. You grab a jagged piece of glass and run to the bathroom, locking yourself in. You quickly turn on the water and strip, sitting under the warmth. You whine pitifully, taking in a huge breath you hold the glass to your arm. A few seconds pass before you exhale deeply and slash down. Your breath hitches and you look through blurry eyes.

What the fuck did you just do?

You stare at the gash, trying to process anything. It's bad, it's really bad. For some reason your next thought is instinctual. You've gone this far, might as well go all out. You take all the emotions you've been shoving away and etch them into your skin with deep, angry gashes. By the time you stop you can hardly breathe. Blood keeps circling down the drain and you slowly start to lose yourself. You stop thinking, you just sit and stare at what you've done.

You really fucked up this time.

Because your left arm is too cut to do any more damage you go to your right, making deep gashes with forceful motions. You don't give a shit, you honestly don't. You just keep slashing your arm, over and over until you're shaking and lightheaded. Like always you step away from reality and cut without thinking about the repercussions or consequences. You don't think about the possibility of you cutting too deep or bleeding out. You hardly care at this point.

By the end of this you're covered in deep injuries and blood. The shower is starting to look pretty morbid, red smeared here and there. Youre bleeding alot but you cant find it in yourself to stop. You keep going and going until your vision starts to fade and you begin to feel very distant. Maybe you should get out of the water before something really bad happens.

You don't even wait for your bleeding to slow before you struggle to stand and turn off the tap. You stumble out of the shower without washing yourself. You're so glad your towels are black. Once you're dry you get dressed in a thick sweater and pants. You put the bloody glass back in the pile and basically fall into bed. You pass out bleeding all over the sheets.

/.../

When you wake up you're in a lot of pain, your body feeling like it's about to collapse in on itself. The next thing that processes it that you skipped work. You also know there's a blood stain on the bed now. Just another thing you'll need to replace. You stand sloppily, walking out to the livingroom. There you pull out a bottle of liquor, your best friend by now. You sit on the couch, turn on a random movie to drink all of the alcohol in record time. Before the movie ends you're unconscious.

/.../

You wake up to light knocking on your door. You sit up, grab a nearby bottle of scotch and start chugging. You lay down again, deciding to ignore the tapping. After a few minutes the knocking stops and you fall asleep.

/.../

You don't know how long it's been since you had your little breakdown. But you haven't gone to work in days and every means of communication you had are broken in the bedroom. Honestly you've been hiding in the apartment. You haven't ate or showered, your only drink being high proof liquor so you feel like utter death. The room is dark and still, your head pounding even though there's nothing to make it pound. It can probably be attributed to dehydration and starvation. You groan and roll over, shoving your face in the cushions. Then, you hear the knock at the door followed by a voice.

"Dave, answer or I'm going to get your landlord." That's one of the producers, isn't it? Fuck. You get up and wobble to the door, grabbing your shades on the way. You open the door a crack and they visibly cringe.

"Are you okay?" He asks, obviously concerned. They're staring at your completely disheveled appearance.

"Do I look okay to you?" You murmur, voice hoarse.

"Not at all." They reply and you make some weird hand movement, causing them to stare at your cut up knuckles.

"I understand if you need time off but just not showing up isn't working very well. Nobody can get through to your phone and you're not answering email."

You sigh and rub your face. You're obviously fucked. You look like shit and smell like a bar, "sorry, I broke my phone and computer." Their eyes go wide, "I'll come in tomorrow. I promise."

"Okay, that's good," they stare at you for awhile, "do you need help? Do you want me to get you a new phone?"

You need a phone before you can go to work. They already know where you live and they've seen you in this state. You decide to take the kindness and nod. You let him in and stumble to your room, making sure they couldn't see the complete disaster you created. You come across your phone in a pile of glass, the screen is completely shattered. You must have broken something inside because it won't turn on and it jingles when you move it. You walk back to the producer and hand him the shattered device.

"I don't care what you buy, just let me know how much it was and I'll send you some money. But really, thanks, this helps a shitton."

He nods and you tell him your provider, number and any other shit he'll need to know. After you thank him again he leaves and you sigh heavily. God, that was fucking embarrassing.

You decide to clean yourself up. You grab some clothes and go to the bathroom to change. As you strip you remember all of the damage you did to your arms. The wounds look pretty irritated, you should have taken a shower before now. You climb under the water and wash literal days worth of grime off of your body. By the time you're done you feel little better. It's not much, but it's something.

You turn off the water, dry off and get dressed. Your next order of business is to drown your sorrows in more liquor. Because you apparently can't go a few hours without the clutch of being incredibly intoxicated. You grab a bottle from the freezer, sitting where you've been glued for the past few days. There are multiple empty liquor bottles on the table, showing the outrageous amount you've been able to drink in 4 days. You're killing your liver.

You turn on the television and start watching a random show. You zone out, hardly processing what's on the tv. It's hard to focus on anything anymore, you're overwhelmed by the reality of your life so you try to ignore it as much as you can. You've realized that's just you running away from your responsibilities but you hardly care. It's what you need to do to function. Hours pass until you hear another knock on the door.

Standing, you have to support yourself on the couch for a second before stumbling over to the door. You look through the peephole, seeing your producer. You open the door and let them in, thanking softly when they hand you a new phone. Then they go to your kitchen and get you a glass of water, joining you on the couch. It's blatantly obvious he's alittle worried. You sit together and he asks, "are we overworking you?"

"No," you shrug, "I just had a hard couple of days."

"What happened to your hand? Your phone was really broken."

"Ugh," you take a drink of water, "alright, so, I had a little freak out. Like, I honestly lost it. I'm normally not an angry person, like at all." You see him nod, "but I broke basically all my shit." You pause, patting your leg softly, "and that's really unlike me. I've never done something so stupid. I guess I just had to process what happened. Sorry for disappearing. Alot more time has passed than I thought. Bet I freaked everyone out, huh?"

"Yeah, you scared us," he laughs. That means they care about you, right?

"My bad," you sigh heavily, "I won't do this again."

"Just tell us if you need time off. Leaving unannounced isn't good."

"Right." you're going to cry. "I'm sorry." He looks really worried about you.

"Dave…" You look at him, "do you want to go home?" You nod and start crying softly, unable to keep control, he looks shocked. You want to go home so bad, and you're a fucking mess. "Okay, why don't you go back to texas? Take a week off."

"Thank you," you sound horrible.

"Did you drink all of those bottles in the 4 days you were gone"

"Yeah."

"You need help."

"I know."

* * *

You're sitting in the jet, flying back to California. You had just as exhausting of a time at home as you usually do in your LA apartment. You got really wasted and upset dirk to a point that you don't think you've gotten to before. He said you need to stop drinking, that you getting so drunk all the time was really scaring him, but the only other way you know how to calm down is to hurt yourself. You know for a fact cutting isn't what Dirk meant by a better way to cope. It's either you drink or you cut, nothing else works.

You stand and walk to the seat that has your bag. You grab a hidden razor and towel before walking to the plane bathroom. You lock it and sit in the small space. Without a second thought you pull up your sleeve and stare at the latticework of cuts. Damn, that's ugly.

Sitting in the room you stare at the walls, the floor, the metal toilet. You stare at all of it until you turn your attention to the blade in your hand. Part of you says you should flush the thing and go back out there. But you won't do that, you're not that good of a person. You wish you weren't so selfish.

You hold the razor in your hand and take a deep breath. You press it to your skin and slash. Instantly gasping, ending with a hiss of pain. You sit for a second, gritting your teeth while blood drips onto the floor. When you look at your arm the result is a large gaping gash. You repeat this process until you don't have any room on that arm. Once you're done you definitely can't feel, but you can focus on breathing and the buzzing silence around you. You hold the towel to your cuts and close your eyes, waiting for the bleeding to stop.

You're so tired.

There's a knock on the door and you yelp. God damn, you weren't expecting that. You sit up straight and wait until hear one of the pilots. "Sir, are you alright? I need to use this."

"Gimme a sec," you murmur, standing. You're very dizzy. You remove the towel from your arm and pull down the sleeve. After pocketing the razor you try to clean up the blood on the floor. Once it's slightly acceptable you fold the towel to hide the red.

When you suddenly open the door the man standing in the hall jumps back. You realize you didn't even try to pretend you were going to the bathroom. You just waltzed out without a rational thought. You don't even address him, you just walk over to the couch and watch whatever movie you put on the computer earlier.

They go into the bathroom and a few minutes later they exit. You see them stare at you, they must know something. When you're sure they're in the front you pull down your sleeve and subtly press the towel to your arm. You need to stop bleeding before you land, it's still pretty heavy. You focus on the video and hold the towel to the numerous cuts.

As you sit you realize how fucked up this actually is. You just cut in your plane, you honestly have no control of yourself anymore. At least you're not sobbing this time around. You're honestly sure you left a bloodstain on the bathroom though. You're a fucking mess.

You're not bleeding heavily anymore so you put the towel and razor in your bag. You absently watch the tv and step away from your mind. You're just so out of it, losing this much blood always makes you kinda lucid. You're just tired, so tired and sad. You're incredibly upset but it doesn't show except for your shaking hands.

You want to go back home, you hate this. You don't want to be famous anymore. You bring your knees to your chest and sigh heavily. Eventually you let your eyes close and you go limp. You flop down onto the couch and slowly fall asleep.

You dream of bro, the searing heat and frigid nights of the years in Texas. You remember the view you looked at every day, the thoughts that plagued and tormented you. Whimpering softly you curl in on yourself. You're getting nervous, panicked even while resting. The surroundings are getting confusing, it feels like you're on fire and then suddenly everything goes completely blank. You're in complete darkness, it's suffocating and disorienting. It's horrible, uncomfortable, and you can't move. You're getting lost in the silence until you feel an unfamiliar hand on your shoulder.

On instinct you jump with a gasp, blurting out, "please no." Wow, that was fucking cool. They stare at you, wide eyed. How are you going to play this off? You clear your throat, sit up and sigh, "sorry, you scared me. We're here?"

"Yes sir, we've arrived. Sorry for alarming you."

"It's fine." You're honestly surprised you slept through the landing. You stand up and grab your bag, scrolling through your phone for a few minutes. How can everything get so fucked up in a week? It amazes you how stupid everyone really is. Once you've read all the messages that you completely ignored during your days off you sigh and rub your face. You force a nonchalant face, thank the pilots sincerely to call your assistant, walking off the plane.


End file.
